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LUIGI  CORNARO 

1464-1566 

From  the  painting  by  Tintoretto  Pitti  Palace  Gallery,  Florence 

Painting  photographed  by  Fratelli  Alinari,  Florence 


The  Art  of 

LIVING  LONG 


A  NEW  AND  IMPROVED  ENGLISH   VBBSION 
OF  THE  TEEATISB  BY  THE 


Celebkated  Venetian  Centbnaeian 


LUIGI  CORNARO 


with  essays  by 
Joseph  Addison,  Lord  Bacon,  and  Sir  William  Temple 


He  was  not  of  an  age,  hut  for  all  time.  —  Ben  Jonson. 


milwaukee 

William  F.  Butlbb 

1917 


THE    CORNARO    COAT    OF   ARMS 


Copyright,    1903 

BX   WII.I.IAM     F.   BT7TZ.SB 

All   rigrhts  reserved 


KA 
ITS' 

PREFACE 


Against  diseases  Jcnovm,  the  strongest  fence 
Is  the  defensive  virtue,  abstinence. 

— Benjamin  Franklin. 


FOR  a  people  of  whom  less  than  a  two-hundredth  part  of 
one  per  cent,  reach  an  age  that  Nature  intends  all  should 
pass,*  the  words  of  the  aged  author  of  ''La  Vita  Sqhria" 
possess  a  deep  import.    To  them  this  volume  is  addressed. 

Luigi  Cornaro's  own  account  —  written  toward  the  close 
of  more  than  a  century  of  life  —  of  the  means  of  his  complete 
restoration  from  an  almost  hopeless  complication  of  bodily 
infirmities,  to  the  happy  state  he  continued  so  long  to  enjoy, 
may  be  said  to  form  a  life  story,  which,  in  its  peculiar  signifi- 
cance, is  without  a  parallel  in  history. 

Not 

"By  showing  conclusively  and  clearly 
That  death  is  a  stupid  blunder  merely. 
And  not  a  necessity  of  our  lives/' 

but  by  demonstrating,  in  a  manner  most  decisive,  that  the  con- 
dition of  perfect  health  —  maintained  to  the  full  limit  of  life 
ordained  by  Nature  —  is  a  blessing  within  the  power  of  every 
human  being  to  realize,  and  by  indicating  the  path  by  which  all 
may  attain  it,  did  this  excellent  man  earn  his  unique  position 

♦  See  Note  A 

7 

G89G11 


THE  ART  OP   LIVING  LONG 

among  the  benefactors  of  mankind.  Let  us  hope  that  our  posi- 
tive and  practical  age,  ever  ready  to  judge  a  proposition  by  its 
degree  of  usefulness,  will  perceive  that  a  rule  of  life  which 
effected  the  recovery  of  a  dying  man,  and  enabled  him  to  retain 
entire  mental  and  bodily  vigor  beyond  his  hundredth  year,  is 
of  incontestable  merit 

While  there  are  some,  who,  though  of  the  number  of 
Comaro's  most  zealous  pupils,  regret  that  he  permitted  wine  to 
form  a  portion  of  his  abstemious  diet ;  yet,  when  his  position  on 
this  question  is  contrasted  with  the  prevailing  custom  of  his 
country  and  age,  his  life  is  none  the  less  recognized  by  all,  as 
one  of  the  most  salutary  examples  of  a  truly  teraperate  career 
the  world  has  yet  witnessed. 

A  carefully  revised  version  of  his  celebrated  treatise,  made 
by  able  translators,  is  here  presented.  As  a  result  of  pains- 
taking researches  among  ancient  documents  in  the  archives  of 
Venice  and  Padua,  historical  matter  relating  to  Comaro  and 
his  family  is  also  placed  before  the  reader.  Much  of  this  is 
not  to  be  found  in  any  previous  edition  of  his  works,  in  the 
various  languages  into  which  they  have  been  rendered. 

Of  the  other  eminent  writers  whose  teachings  on  the  subject 
of  longevity  we  have  included  in  this  volume,  little  need  here 
be  said.  One  of  them,  not  many  years  after  the  famous  cente- 
narian had  passed  away,  emphasized  to  the  world,  in  the  Latin 
tongue,  the  substantial  advantages  Comaro  had  reaped  from  the 
habit  of  complete  self-restraint  to  which  he  had  accustomed  him- 
self in  early  manhood,  and  from  which,  for  the  remainder  of  his 
days,  he  had  never  deviated.  A  century  after  Bacon,  in  the 
graceful  tribute  which  Addison  —  one  of  the  most  practical 
philosophers  of  his  age  —  pays  to  Comaro,  we  have  an  intro- 
duction to  the  work  of  the  illustrious  Venetian  that  is  truly 
worthy  of  his  theme. 

Acknowledgment  for  valuable  assistance  is  gratefully  made 
to  Conte  Comm.  Filippo  Grimani,  LL.  D.,  the  honored  Mayor 
of  Venice ;  Cav.  Prof.  Angelo  Scrinzi,  Ph.  D.,  Director  of  the 
Venetian  Civic  Museum,  and  Dr.  Ricciotti  Bratti,  his  associate ; 

8 


PEEPACE 

as  well  as  Dr.  Prof.  Andrea  Moschetti,  Director  of  the  Civic  Mu- 
seum of  Padua.  Thanks  are  due,  also,  to  Dr.  Prof.  Emilio  Lo- 
varini,  of  Bologna,  and  Signor  Michele  Danesi,  Editor  of 
"L'Arte"^jne,ioT  their  kind  revision  of  the  translation  of  "The 
yillas  Erected  hy  Luigi  Comaro"  and  for  their  consent  to  its 
publication.  To  Cav.  Dr.  Enrico  Ridolfi,  Director  of  the  Eoyal 
Galleries  and  National  Museum  of  Florence,  and  to  the  photog- 
raphers Signori  Fratelli  Alinari,  of  the  same  city,  this  work  is 
indebted  for  the  copy  of  the  Tintoretto  painting  of  Luigi  Cor- 
naro.  Credit  is  accorded,  for  many  helpful  courtesies,  to  Miss 
Ida  M.  Street,  author  of  "Rushiris  Principles  of  Art  Criticism" 
and  Messrs.  Willard  G.  Bleyer,  of  the  University  of  Wisconsin, 
and  John  G.  Gregory,  of  Milwaukee. 

William  F.  Butlbb. 
Milwaukee,  January,  1917. 


Bosom  up  my  counsel; 
You'll  find  it  wholesome. — William  Shakespeare. 

Deign,  reader,  to  he  taught, 
Whate'er  thy  strength  of  body,  force  of  thought. 

— David  Garrick. 


Know,  prudent,  cautious,  self-control 
Is  wisdom's  root. 

— Robert  Bums. 


Wouldst  thou  enjoy  a  long  life,  a  healthy  body,  and 
a  vigorous  mind,  and  be  acquainted  also  with  the  won- 
derful works  of  God,  labor  in  the  first  place  to  bring 
thy  appetite  to  reason. — Benjamin  Franklin^ 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Peeface    7 

Inteoduction 

"To  Luigi  Cornaro." — John  Witt  Eandall 13 

Joseph  Addison,   in  "The   Spectator"   October   13, 

ini 15 

Part  I 

The  Life  and  Writings  of  Luigi  Cornaro 25 

"The  Art  of  Living  Long,"  by  Luigi  Cornaro 

First  Discourse    39 

Second  Discourse 77 

Third  Discourse 91 

Fourth  Discourse 103 

Paet  II 

Selections  from  Lord  Bacon's  '^History  of  Life  and 

Death"  etc 117 

Selections  from  Sir  William  Temple's  "Health  and 

Long  Life"  etc 141 

Appendix 

A  Short  History  of  the  Cornaro  Family 159 

Some  Account  of  Eminent  Comaros 169 

Bartolomeo  Gamba's  Eulogy  upon  Luigi  Cornaro.  . .  179 
Emilio    Lovarini's    "The    Villas   Erected   hy    Luigi 

Cornaro" 191 

Notes 209 

porteaits 

Luigi  Cornaro   4 

Joseph  Addison   52 

Lord  Bacon   102 

Sir  William  Temple 152 

The  Coenaeo  Coat  of  Aems 6 


If  any  man  can  convince  me  and  bring  home  to 
me  that  I  do  not  think  or  act  aright,  gladly  will  I 
change;  for  I  search  after  truth,  hy  which  man  never 
yet  was  harmed.  Bui  he  is  harmed  who  ahideth  on  still 
in  his  deception  and  ignorance. 

Do  not  think  that  what  is  hard  for  thee  to  master 
is  impossible  for  man;  but  if  a  thing  is  possible  and 
proper  to  man,  deem  it  attainable  by  thee. 

Persevere  then  until  thou  shalt  have  made  these 
things  thy  own. 

Like  a  mariner  who  has  doubled  the  promontory, 
thou  wilt  find  calm,  everything  stable,  and  a  waveless 
bay. 

— Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus 


INTRODUCTION 


"TD  LUIGI   CORNARO" 


BY 


JOHN  WITT  BANDAIX' 


0  thou  that  for  an  hundred  years 

Didst  lightly  tread  the  ancestral  hall. 

Yet  sawest  thy  brethren  bathed  in  tears, 

Cut  down  ere  ripe,  and  round  thee  fall,  — 

Well  didst  thou  deem  long  life  the  measure 
Of  long  enjoyment  to  the  wise. 

To  fools  alone  devoid  of  pleasure; 

Thou  wouldst  not  die  as  the  fool  dies. 

Robbed  of  thy  titles,  lands,  and  health. 
With  man  and  fortune  in  disgrace. 

In  wisdom  didst  thou  seek  thy  wealth. 
Thy  peace  in  friendship  to  thy  race. 

With  thine  eleven  grandchildren  met. 
Thou  couldst  at  will  become  the  boy; 

And,  thine  own  sorrows  to  forget, 

Couldst  lose  thyself  in  others'  joy,  — 
•  See  Note  B 


13 


THE  ART  OF   LIVING   LONG 

Couldst  mount  thy  horse  when  past  fourscore. 
And  climb  steep  hills,  and  on  dull  days 

Cheer  the  long  hours  with  learned  lore. 
Or  spend  thy  wit  on  tales  and  plays. 

In  summer,  thou  wa^t  friend  of  flowers, 
And,  when  the  winter  nights  grew  long. 

And  music  cheered  the  evening  hours. 
Still  clearest  was  the  old  man's  song. 

Thus,  while  thy  calm  and  thoughtful  mind 

The  ravages  of  time  survived. 
Three  generations  of  mankind 

Dropped  round  thee,  joyless  and  short-lived. 

Thou  sawest  the  flowers  of  youth  decay. 
Half  dried  and  withered  through  excess. 

Till,  nursed  by  virtue's  milder  ray. 
Thy  green  age  grew  to  fruitfulness. 

Thou  sawest  life's  barque  on  troubled  seas 

Long  tossed;  care's  clouds  thy  skies  o'ercast; 

But  calm  content,  with  moderate  breeze. 
Brought  thee  to  wisdom's  port  at  last. 

Life's  evening,  wherein  most  behold 
Their  season  of  regrets  and  fears. 

Became  for  thee  an  age  of  gold. 

And  gave  thee  all  thy  happiest  years. 

As  gentle  airs  and  genial  sun 

Stay  winter's  march  when  leaves  grow  sere. 
And,  when  the  summer's  race  is  run. 

With  a  new  summer  crown  the  year; 


14 


INTRODUCTION 

So  temperance,  like  that  lingering  glow 

Which  makes  the  October  woods  so  bright. 

Did  on  thy  vale  of  years  bestow 
A  glorious  autumn  of  delight. 

What  useful  lessons  might  our  race 
From  thy  so  sage  experience  draw! 

Earth  might  become  a  joyous  place. 

Would  man  but  reverence  nature's  law. 

Soar  folly,  self,  and  sense  above; 

Govern  each  mutinous  desire; 
Nor  let  the  sacred  flame  of  love 

In  passion's  hurricane  expire. 

No  wondrous  works  of  hand  or  mind 

Were  thine;  God  bade  thee  stand  and  wait, 

A  living  proof  to  all  thy  kind 

That  a  wise  man  may  master  fate. 

Happy  that  life  around  whose  close 
The  virtues  all  their  rainbows  cast. 

While  wisdom  and  the  soul's  repose 

Make  age  more  blest  than  all  the  past! 


THERE*  is  a  story  in  the  *^ Arabian  Nights  Tales" 
of  a  king  who  had  long  languished  under  an  ill 
habit  of  body,  and  had  taken  abundance  of  remedies 
to  no  purpose.     At  length,  says  the  fable,  a  physician 
cured  him  by  the  following  method:    He  took  a  hollow 
ball  of  wood,  and  filled  it  with  several  drugs ;  after  which 
*  See  Note  C 

15 


THE  ART  OP  LIVING  LONG 

he  closed  it  up  so  artificially  that  nothing  appeared.  He 
likewise  took  a  mall;  and,  after  having  hollowed  the 
handle,  and  that  part  which  strikes  the  ball,  he  inclosed 
in  them  several  drugs  after  the  same  manner  as  in  the 
ball  itself.  He  then  ordered  the  sultan,  who  was  his  pa- 
tient, to  exercise  himself  early  in  the  morning  with  these 
rightly  prepared  instruments,  till  such  time  as  he  should 
sweat;  when,  as  the  story  goes,  the  virtue  of  the  medi- 
caments perspiring  through  the  wood,  had  so  good  an 
influence  on  the  sultan's  constitution,  that  they  cured  him 
of  an  indisposition  which  all  the  compositions  he  had 
taken  inwardly  had  not  been  able  to  remove.  This  East- 
ern allegory  is  finely  contrived  to  show  us  how  beneficial 
bodily  labor  is  to  health,  and  that  exercise  is  the  most 
effectual  physic.  I  have  described  in  my  hundred  and 
fifteenth  paper,  from  the  general  structure  and  mechan- 
ism of  a  human  body,  how  absolutely  necessary  exercise 
is  for  its  preservation;  I  shall  in  this  place  recommend 
another  great  preservative  of  health,  which  in  many 
cases  produces  the  same  effects  as  exercise,  and  may,  in 
some  measure,  supply  its  place,  where  opportunities  of 
exercise  are  wanting.  The  preservative  I  am  speaking 
of  is  temperance;  which  has  those  particular  advantages 
above  all  other  means  of  health,  that  it  may  be  practiced 
by  all  ranks  and  conditions,  at  any  season  or  in  any  place. 
It  is  a  kind  of  regimen  into  which  every  man  may  put 
himself,   without   interruption    to   business,    expense   of 

16 


INTRODUCTION 

money,  or  loss  of  time.  If  exercise  throws  off  all  super- 
fluities, temperance  prevents  them;  if  exercise  clears  the 
yessels,  temperance  neither  satiates  nor  overstrains  them ; 
if  exercise  raises  proper  ferments  in  the  humors,  and  pro- 
motes the  circulation  of  the  blood,  temperance  gives  nature 
her  full  play,  and  enables  her  to  exert  herself  in  all  her 
force  and  vigor;  if  exercise  dissipates  a  growing  distem- 
per, temperance  starves  it. 

Physic,  for  the  most  part,  is  nothing  else  but  the 
substitute  of  exercise  or  temperance.  Medicines  are 
indeed  absolutely  necessary  in  acute  distempers,  that  can- 
not wait  the  slow  operations  of  these  two  great  instru- 
ments of  health;  but  did  men  live  in  a  habitual  course 
of  exercise  and  temperance,  there  would  be  but  little 
occasion  for  them.  Accordingly,  we  find  that  those  parts 
of  the  world  are  the  most  healthy  where  they  subsist  by 
the  chase;  and  that  men  lived  longest  when  their  lives 
were  employed  in  hunting,  and  when  they  had  little  food 
besides  what  they  caught.  Blistering,  cupping,  bleeding, 
are  seldom  of  use  but  to  the  idle  and  intemperate;  as  all 
those  inward  applications  which  are  so  much  in  practice 
among  us,  are  for  the  most  part  nothing  else  but  expedi- 
ents to  make  luxury  consistent  with  health.  The  apoth- 
ecary is  perpetually  employed  in  countermining  the 
cook  and  the  vintner.  It  is  said  of  Diogenes,  that,  meet- 
ing a  young  man  who  was  going  to  a  feast,  he  took  him 
up  in  the  street  and  carried  him  home  to  his  friends,  as 
one  who  was  running  into  imminent  danger,  had  not  he 

17 


THE  ART  OP   LIVING  LONG 

prevented  him.  What  would  that  philosopher  have 
said,  had  he  been  present  at  the  gluttony  of  a  modern 
meal?  Would  not  he  have  thought  the  master  of  a  family 
mad,  and  have  begged  his  servants  to  tie  down  his  hands, 
had  he  seen  him  devour  fowl,  fish,  and  flesh;  swallow 
oil  and  vinegar,  wines  and  spices;  throw  down  salads  of 
twenty  different  herbs,  sauces  of  a  hundred  ingredients, 
confections  and  fruits  of  numberless  sweets  and  flavors? 
What  unnatural  motions  and  counter-ferments  must  such 
a  medley  of  intemperance  produce  in  the  body!  For  my 
part,  when  I  behold  a  fashionable  table  set  out  in  all  its 
magnificence,  I  fancy  that  I  see  gouts  and  dropsies, 
fevers  and  lethargies,  with  other  innumerable  distempers, 
lying  in  ambuscade  among  the  dishes. 

Nature  delights  in  the  most  plain  and  simple  diet. 
Every  animal,  but  man,  keeps  to  one  dish.  Herbs  are 
the  food  of  this  species,  fish  of  that,  and  flesh  of  a  third. 
Man  falls  upon  everything  that  comes  in  his  way;  not 
the  smallest  fruit  or  excrescence  of  the  earth,  scarce  a 
berry  or  a  mushroom,  can  escape  him. 

It  is  impossible  to  lay  down  any  determinate  rule 
for  temperance;  because  what  is  luxury  in  one  may  be 
temperance  in  another.  But  there  are  few  that  have 
lived  any  time  in  the  world,  who  are  not  judges  of  their 
own  constitutions,  so  far  as  to  know  what  kinds  and  what 
proportions  of  food  do  best  agree  with  them.  Were  I  to 
consider  my  readers  as  my  patients,  and  to  prescribe 
such  a  kind  of  temperance  as  is  accommodated  to  all  per- 

18 


INTRODUCTION 

sons,  and  such  as  is  particularly  suitable  to  our  climate 
and  way  of  living,  I  would  copy  the  following  rules  of 
a  very  eminent  physician :  "Make  your  whole  repast  out 
of  one  dish;  if  you  indulge  in  a  second,  avoid  drinking 
anything  strong  till  you  have  finished  your  meal;  at  the 
same  time  abstain  from  all  sauces,  or  at  least  such  as  are 
not  the  most  plain  and  simple/^  A  man  could  not  be  well 
guilty  of  gluttony,  if  he  stuck  to  these  few  obvious  and 
easy  rules.  In  the  first  case,  there  would  be  no  variety 
of  tastes  to  solicit  his  palate,  and  occasion  excess;  nor, 
in  the  second,  any  artificial  provocatives  to  relieve  satiety, 

and    create   a    false    appetite But,    because    it    is 

impossible  for  one  who  lives  in  the  world  to  diet  himself 
always  in  so  philosophical  a  manner,  I  think  every  man 
should  have  his  days  of  abstinence,  according  as  his  con- 
stitution will  permit.  These  are  great  reliefs  to  nature, 
as  they  qualify  her  for  struggling  with  hunger  and 
thirst,  whenever  any  distemper  or  duty  of  life  may  put 
her  upon  such  difficulties;  and  at  the  same  time  give  her 
an  opportunity  of  extricating  herself  from  her  oppres- 
sions, and  recovering  the  several  tones  and  springs  of 
her  distended  vessels.  Besides  that,  abstinence  well- 
timed  often  kills  a  sickness  in  embryo,  and  destroys  the 
first  seeds  of  an  indisposition.  It  is  observed  by  two  or 
three  ancient  authors,  that  Socrates,  notwithstanding  he 
lived  in  Athens  during  that  great  plague,  which  has  made 
so  much  noise  through  all  ages,  and  has  been  celebrated 
at  different  times  by  such  eminent  hands;  I  say,  not- 

19 


THE  ART  OF   LIVING  LONG 

withstanding  that  he  lived  in  the  time  of  this  devouring 
^  pestilence,  he  never  caught  the  least  infection ;  which 
those  writers  unanimously  ascribe  to  that  uninterrupted 
temperance  which  he  always  observed. 

And  here  I  cannot  but  mention  an  observation  which 
I  have  often  made,  upon  reading  the  lives  of  the  philoso- 
phers, and  comparing  them  with  any  series  of  kings  or 
great  men  of  the  same  number.  If  we  consider  these 
ancient  sages,  a  great  part  of  whose  philosophy  consisted 
in  a  temperate  and  abstemious  course  of  life,  one  would 
think  the  life  of  a  philosopher  and  the  life  of  a  man  were 
of  two  different  dates.  For  we  find  that  the  generality 
of  these  wise  men  were  nearer  a  hundred  than  sixty 
years  of  age  at  the  time  of  their  respective  deaths.  But 
the  most  remarkable  instance  of  the  efficacy  of  temper- 
ance toward  the  procuring  of  long  life,  is  what  we  meet 
with  in  a  little  book  published  by  Luigi  Cornaro 
the  Venetian;  which  I  the  rather  mention,  because  it 
is  of  undoubted  credit,  as  the  late  Venetian  ambassador, 
who  was  of  the  same  family,  attested  more  than  once  in 
conversation,  when  he  resided  in  England.  Cornaro, 
who  was  the  author  of  the  little  ^'Treatise''  I  am  men- 
tioning, was  of  an  infirm  constitution,  till  about  forty; 
when,  by  obstinately  persisting  in  an  exact  course  of 
temperance,  he  recovered  a  perfect  state  of  health;  inso- 
much that  at  fourscore  he  published  his  book,  which  has 
been  translated  into  English  under  the  title  of  ^^A  Sure 
and  Certain  Method  of  Attaining  a  Long  and  Healthy 

20 


INTRODUCTION 

Life/'  He  lived  to  give  a  third  or  fourth  edition  of  it; 
and,  after  having  passed  his  hundredth  year,  died  without 
pain  or  agony,  and  like  one  who  falls  asleep.  The 
^'Treatise''  I  mention  has  been  taken  notice  of  by  several 
eminent  authors,  and  is  written  with  such  a  spirit  of 
cheerfulness,  religion,  and  good  sense,  as  are  the  natural 
concomitants  of  temperance  and  sobriety.  The  mixture 
of  the  old  man  in  it  is  rather  a  recommendation  than  a 
discredit  to  it. 

— Joseph  Addison,  in  ''The  Spectator,"  October  13, 1711. 


21 


Of  aU  tyrants,  custom  is  that  which  to  sustain 
itself  stands  most  in  need  of  the  opinion  which  is  enter- 
tained of  its  power;  its  only  strength  lies  in  that  which 
is  attrihuted  to  it.  A  single  attempt  to  hreah  the  yoke 
soon  shows  us  its  fragility.  Bui  the  chief  property  of 
cvMom  is  to  contract  our  ideas,  like  our  movements, 
within  the  circle  it  has  traced  for  v^.  It  governs  us  hy 
the  terror  it  inspires  for  any  new  and  untried  condition. 
It  shows  u^  the  walls  of  the  prison  within  which  we  are 
inclosed,  as  the  boundary  of  the  world;  beyond  that,  all 
is  undefined,  confusion,  chaos;  it  almost  seem^  as 
though  we  should  not  have  air  to  breathe. 

—F.  P.  G.  Guizot. 


PART  I 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 


BT 


LUIGI    CORNARO 


Prefaced  by  a  Short  Account  of  His 
Life  and  Writings 


*Tis  in  ourselves  that  we 
are  tlius  or  thus.  Our  "bodies  are  gardens;  to  the  which 
our  wills  are  gardeners:  so  that  if  we  will  plant  nettles 
or  sow  lettuce,  set  hyssop  and  weed  up  thyme,  supply 
it  with  one  gender  of  herhs  or  distract  it  with  many, 
either  to  have  it  sterile  with  idleness  or  manured  with 
industry,  why,  the  power  and  corrigible  authority  of 
this  lies  in  our  wills.  If  the  balance  of  our  lives  had 
not  one  scale  of  reason  to  poise  another  of  sensuality, 
the  blood  and  baseness  of  our  natures  would  conduct 
iw  to  most  preposterous  conclusions:  but  we  have  reason 
to  cool  our  raging  motions,  our  carnal  stings,  our  un- 
bitted  lusts.— "Othello.'* 


A  Short  Account  of 

THE  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


OF 


LUIGI  CORNARO 


"TO   LUIGI   COKNAKO" 

FSOM   THE  ITALIAN    OF   HIEEONIMO   GUALTO    (CIECA    1560) 

DONE  INTO  ENGLISH  VEESB  BY 

JOHN  GOADBY  GKEGOEY 


Sir,  well  may  Fame  to  you  accord  the  praise 
That,  spite  of  adverse  stars  and  nature's  strife. 
Solely  hy  measured  conduct  of  your  life. 

Healthy  and  happy  you  gained  length  of  days. 

Nor  stops  approval  there,  hut  also  weighs 
The  pains  you  spared  not  to  set  others  right. 
Guiding  their  footsteps  hy  your  heaconrlight 

To  long  and  pleasant  journeying  through  life's  maze. 

Blest  is  your  lot,  who,  with  a  steadfast  mind. 
Beneath  a  load  of  years  which  many  fear. 

Contented  and  felicitous  abide, 

25 


THE  AET  OP  LIVING  LONG 


Your  voice  in  song  upraised  rohust  and  clear. 
Your  thoughts  with  nohle  studies  occupied. 
That  good  is  yours  which  is  for  man  designed. 


II 


"Weary  and  woeful  is  senectitude 

E'en  when  from  penury  and  aches  'tis  free" 
Cries  one,  "for  that  it  brings  debility. 

And  warns  us  of  the  grisly  monarch  rude." 

Yet  he  who  holds  in  rein  his  passions  crude. 

Nor  rends  the  blossoms  from  life's  growing  tree. 
Gathers  in  age  fruits  sweet  and  fair  to  see. 

For  Nature  is  with  purpose  hind  endued. 

If  I,  now  years  come  on,  am  weak  and  ill. 
Not  time,  bui  I,  am  cause  of  this  my  woe. 

Too  much  I  heeded  headlong  appetite. 

And  though  to  save  the  wreck  I  bend  my  will, 
'Tis  vain,  I  fear  —  /  ever  older  grow. 

And  aged  error  is  not  soon  set  right. 


Ill 


In  hermit  caverns,  where  the  desert  glowers. 
The  ancient  Fathers  lived  on  frugal  fare  — 
Roots,  cresses,  herbs  —  avoiding  viands  rare. 

Nor  had  they  palates  less  refined  than  ours. 

From  their  example,  confirmation  flowers 
Of  what  you  tell  me,  and  in  mind  I  bear 
That  feasts  which  folly  spreads  on  tables  fair 

Our  frames  enfeeble  and  reduce  our  powers. 


26 


LIFE  OF  CORNARO 

The  wish  in  man  is  native  to  remain 
Long  with  the  living,  for  to  live  is  sweet. 

His  wish  he  may  by  abstinence  attain. 

Dame  Reason  counsels,  sober  and  discreet. 

This  way  that  solid  privilege  to  gain. 
And  tardy  to  the  realm  of  shades  retreat. 


LUIGI  CORNARO,*  often  styled  The  Venetian  Centena- 
EiAN^  the  aged  author  of  the  famous  treatise,  '^La  Vita 

Sobria"*  (literal  translation,  "The  Temperate  Life,"  but 
better  known  as  "The  Art  of  Living  Long"),  was  bom  in  the 
city  of  Venice  in  the  year  1464. 

Although  a  direct  descendant  of  the  illustrious  family  of 
Comaro,  yet,  defrauded  in  some  way  through  the  dishonest 
intrigues  of  some  of  his  relatives,  —  we  are  but  imperfectly 
acquainted  with  the  circumstances,  —  he  was  deprived  of  the 
honors  and  privileges  attached  to  his  noble  birth,  and  excluded 
from  all  public  employment  in  the  State.  A  man  of  great 
personal  and  family  pride,  he  felt  very  keenly  the  humilia- 
tion of  this  treatment;  and,  as  a  consequence,  he  withdrew 
from  his  native  place  and  made  the  city  of  Padua  his  home 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life,  save  for  brief  seasons  of  summer 
retirement  to  his  country-seats. 

Yet  that,  which,  at  the  time,  must  have  seemed  to  him  a 
great  misfortune,  proved  eventually  a  blessing;  and  doubtless, 
during  the  long  course  of  his  remarkable  career,  Cornaro's 
philosophic  mind  often  reverted  with  thankfulness  to  those 
very  indignities,  but  for  which,  perhaps,  he  would  never  have 
received  the  chief  incentive  of  his  life ;  for  may  we  not  believe 
it  was  because  of  them  that  he  resolved  to  found  for  himself 
a  more  honorable  name  —  one  that  should  rest  upon  a  sounder 
and  more  worthy  basis  than  mere  family  pride.  This  deter- 
mination, whatever  may  have  inspired  it,  proved,  as  we  learn 

*  See  Note  D. 

27 


THE  AET  OF  LIVING  LONG 

in  his  narrative,  to  be  the  crisis  of  his  life,  changing,  as  if  by 
magic,  its  entire  course;  and  it  resulted  in  the  establishment 
of  a  fame,  not  only  great  in  his  own  day,  but  which  continues 
to  increase  as  time  rolls  on. 

In  order  to  accomplish  the  purpose  uppermost  in  his 
mind,  the  first  thing  to  which  he  gave  his  constant  and  most 
intelligent  attention  was  the  securing  of  perfect  health,  which 
heretofore  he  had  never  known,  and  which  he  recognized  as  the 
best  armor  for  the  warfare  of  life ;  a  knowledge,  the  importance 
of  which  —  in  his  day,  as  in  ours  —  few  fully  realized.  At 
the  details  of  this  glorious  work,  as  well  as  its  happy  results, 
we  shall  here  take  only  a  hasty  glance ;  for  the  picture  he  has 
painted  is  by  the  hand  of  a  master,  and  no  one  but  himself 
can  do  it  justice. 

Bom  with  a  very  delicate  constitution,  accompanied  un- 
fortunately by  a  choleric  disposition,  Cornaro  furthermore  gave 
evidence,  in  early  life,  of  careless  habits  which  finally  developed 
into  those  of  intemperance ;  and,  though  destined  to  leave  behind 
him  a  name  imperishable,  because  of  virtues  based  upon  a 
complete  subjugation  of  every  passion,  was  almost  destroyed, 
before  he  reached  the  age  of  forty,  by  those  natural  and  acquired 
infirmities,  which,  for  years,  had  made  his  days  and  nights  an 
almost  continual  martyrdom. 

Finally  convinced  that  his  unnatural  habits  would,  if  per- 
sisted in,  soon  be  the  cause  of  his  death,  and  possessed  of 
ihat  determined  courage  and  resolution,  which,  on  a  closer 
acquaintance,  we  shall  recognize  and  learn  to  admire  as  his 
chief  trait,  he  changed  his  manner  of  life  so  completely  that, 
in  a  very  brief  time,  his  diseases  disappeared,  giving  place  to 
a  rugged  health  and  serenity  of  mind  hitherto  unknown  to 
him.  In  a  word,  from  a  despairing  and  almost  helpless  invalid, 
unfit  for  either  work  or  enjoyment,  he  became  not  only  a  man 
of  perfect  health,  singularly  active  and  happy,  but  also  such  an 
example  of  complete  self-restraint  as  to  be  the  wonder  and 
admiration  of  all  who  knew  him,  earning  and  receiving  the 
title  of  The  Temperate.  The  mildness  and  sweetness  of  his 
altered  disposition  at  the  same  time  gained  for  him  the  fullest 
respect  and  affection. 

28 


LIFE  OF  COBNAEO 

In  the  city  of  Udine,  northern  Italy,  he  married  Veronica 
di  Spilimbergo,*  a  daughter  of  the  noble  house  of  that  name. 

He  very  much  desired  children,  not  only  for  every  natural 
reason,  but  also  in  order  that  his  own  offspring  might  inherit 
the  large  fortune  which  he  possessed.  Though  for  a  long  time 
disappointed  in  this  hope,  he  was  finally  made  very  happy  by 
the  advent  of  a  little  daughter,  bom  when  he  and  his  wife  were 
both  well  advanced  in  years;  to  her  they  gave  the  name  of 
Chiara  (Clara).  In  due  time  she  was  married  to  one  of 
her  own  name  and  kindred,  Giovanni  (John),  the  son  of  Fan- 
tino  Comaro,  a  member  of  the  wealthy  and  powerful  Comaro 
Piscopia  branch  of  the  family.  She  became  the  mother  of 
eight  sons  and  three  daughters,  all  of  whom  the  grandfather  — 
as  we  learn  from  his  own  words  —  lived  to  see  and  enjoy. 

Having  faithfully  observed  that  wise  law  of  Nature,  mod- 
eration, for  so  many  years,  he  anticipated,  with  a  confidence 
which  the  sequel  will  show  was  neither  unfounded  nor  dis- 
appointed, a  happy  and  prosperous  life  of  not  less  than  a  cen- 
tury ;  and  this  span  he  was  equally  certain  he  would  have  been 
able  to  extend  considerably,  had  it  been  his  good  fortune  to 
have  begun  life  with  the  advantages  he  assures  us  his  teachings 
will  confer  on  the  children  of  all  who  lead  the  temperate  life 
it  had  been  his  delight  to  follow. 

To  the  very  close  of  his  wonderful  career  he  retained  his 
accustomed  health  and  vigor,  as  well  as  the  possession,  in  their 
perfection,  of  all  his  faculties.  No  hand  but  his  own  can 
faithfully  give  us  an  account  of  the  recreations  and  pleasures 
of  that  happy  old  age  for  which  he  entreats  all  to  strive.  But 
we  may  sum  it  all  up  in  the  one  brief  line  wherein  he  assures 
us:  "I  never  knew  the  world  was  beautiful  until  I  reached 
old  age."  Of  the  knowledge  that  his  was  an  instance  without 
a  parallel,  he  himself  was  not  ignorant.  In  this  thought  he 
not  only  took  a  pardonable  pride,  but  derived  one  of  the 
greatest  joys  of  his  old  age,  when  he  reflected  that  while  many 
others  before  him  had  written  eulogies  upon  a  life  of  temperance 
and  regularity,  no  one,  at  the  end  of  a  century  of  life,  had 
ever  taken  pen  in  hand  to  leave  to  the  world  the  story  of  a 
*  See  Note  E 

29 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

personal  participation  in  the  many  indescribable  blessings, 
which,  for  so  many  years,  it  had  been  his  lot  to  enjoy ;  nor  had 
any  one,  after  recovering  broken  health,  lived  to  such  an  age 
to  tell  the  world  how  he  had  done  so. 

The  one  thought  uppermost  in  his  heart  was  that  of  grati- 
tude for  his  recovery,  and  for  the  countless  blessings  of  his 
long  life.  This  sentiment  he  hoped  would  ever  continue  to 
bear  substantial  fruit;  for  he  lived  and  died  in  the  belief  that 
his  labors  in  writing  a  faithful  account  of  his  experience,  would 
result,  for  all  time,  in  benefiting  those  who  would  listen  to  him. 
He  was  convinced,  that  if  he,  who  had  begun  life  under  so  many 
disadvantages,  could  attain  perfect  health  and  continue  in  it 
for  so  many  years,  the  possibilities  of  those  blessed  with  a 
perfect  constitution  and  aided,  from  childhood,  with  the  tem- 
perate rule  of  life,  must  indeed  be  almost  unlimited.  It  will  be 
difficult  to  find  anywhere  recorded  an  instance  wherein  consti- 
tutional defects,  aggravated  by  unwise  habits  of  life,  threatened 
a  more  untimely  death;  and  if  Comaro,  with  a  constitution 
naturally  weak  and  apparently  ruined  at  the  age  of  forty, 
could  attain  such  results,  who  will  presume  to  set  a  limit  to 
the  possibilities  of  longevity  for  the  human  family,  after  con- 
secutive generations  have  faithfully  observed  Nature's  wise 
laws? 

Loaded  with  testimonials  of  the  gratitude  and  reverence 
of  many  who  had  profited  by  his  example  and  advice,  —  which 
knowledge  of  this  benefit  to  others  was,  as  he  assures  us,  among 
the  sweetest  of  his  many  blessings,  —  he  passed  the  evening  of 
his  life  honored  by  all,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  friendship 
and  esteem  of  the  most  eminent  of  his  countrymen.  Having 
devoted  his  best  years  to  the  accomplishment  of  what  he  firmly 
believed  to  be  his  mission  in  this  world,  —  a  consecrated  task, 
that  of  bringing  home  to  his  fellow-men  the  realization  of  the 
inevitable  consequences  of  intemperance,  —  he  patiently  waited 
for  the  end.  When  death  came,  it  found  him  armed  with  the 
resignation  of  the  philosopher  and  a  steadfastly  courageous  faith 
in  the  future,  ready  and  glad  to  resign  his  life.  Peacefully, 
as  he  had  expected  and  foretold,  he  died  at  his  palace  in  Padua, 
April  26,  1566,  in  the  one  hundred  and  third  year  of  his  age. 

30 


LIFE  OF  CORNAEO 

(Historians  have  not  agreed  as  to  the  year  of  his  birth,  some 
placing  his  age  at  one  hundred  and  four,  others  as  low  as 
ninety-eight.  The  dates  we  have  given  are,  however,  substan- 
tiated by  the  best  authorities.) 

He  was  buried  on  the  eighth  of  the  following  month,  with- 
out any  pomp,  according  to  the  directions  left  in  his  will; 
and  by  his  side  his  faithful  wife,  who  survived  him  and  lived 
to  almost  the  same  age,  in  due  time  was  laid.  Her  end  was 
an  equally  happy  one,  finding  her  in  such  perfect  serenity  of 
soul  and  ease  of  body,  that  those  at  her  bedside  were  not  aware 
that  her  gentle  spirit  had  taken  its  flight. 

The  beautiful  home,  built  by  Cornaro  on  the  Via  Mel- 
chiorre  Cesarotti  in  Padua,  and  the  scene,  for  so  many  years, 
of  the  greatest  domestic  happiness  as  well  as  of  the  most 
generous  hospitality,  is  still  in  existence,  and  has  always  been 
known  by  his  name.  It  consists,  mainly,  of  three  buildings; 
the  palace  —  which  is  the  principal  one  —  and  the  casino  are 
both  attributed  to  Cornaro  himself ;  while  the  celebrated  loggia 
is  known  as  the  work  of  his  protege  and  friend,  Falconetto.* 
The  three  inclose  a  courtyard,  upon  which  all  face  —  the  palace 
on  one  side  near  the  street,  the  loggia  and  casino  on  other  sides. 

The  best  portrait  extant  of  this  justly  celebrated  man  is 
catalogued  as  No.  83  in  the  famous  gallery  of  the  Pitti  Palace, 
at  Florence.  It  has,  until  recently,  been  considered  one  of 
Titian's  paintings;  but  it  is  now  known  as  the  work  of  Tin- 
toretto, and  is  among  the  masterpieces  of  that  famous  artist. 
The  canvas  measures  44x33  inches,  and  the  photographic  copy 
used  in  this  work  is  declared  by  the  Director  of  the  Pitti  Gal- 
lery to  be  an  excellent  one.  The  figure,  two-thirds  in  length, 
is  life  size.  Cornaro  is  represented  as  seated  in  an  armchair, 
dressed  in  black,  his  coat  trimmed  with  fur.  Though  the 
picture  portrays  a  man  well  advanced  in  years,  there  is  a  dignity 
of  bearing  and  a  keenness  of  eye  that  indicate  one  still  physically 
vigorous  and  mentally  alert. 

In   other   portions   of  this   volume,    some   of  the   many 
attainments  of  this  remarkable  man  are  made  manifest;  we 
♦  See  Note  F 

31 


THE  AET  OF  LIVING  LONG 

will  here  —  with  this  passing  mention  of  his  treatise  on  the 
preservation  of  the  lagoons  ("Trattato  delle  Acque,"  Padua, 
1560) — notice,  very  briefly,  the  writings  for  which  he  is 
chiefly  known. 

At  the  age  of  eighty-three,  after  more  than  forty  years  of 
perfect  health  and  undisturbed  tranquillity  of  spirits,  during 
which  time  he  had  lived  a  life  that  contrasted  as  much  with 
that  of  his  earlier  days  as  it  did  with  that  which  he  saw  com- 
monly lived  by  others  around  him,  he  wrote  the  first  of  the  four 
discourses  which  constitute  his  famous  treatise,  "La,  Vita 
JSobria."  This  was  followed  by  the  three  others,  one  written 
at  the  age  of  eighty-six,  one  at  ninety-one,  and  the  last  at 
ninety-five ;  the  four  completing  a  most  instructive  life  story  — 
one  with  which  he  earnestly  wished  all  might  become  familiar, 
that  they  might  follow  his  example,  and  thus  enjoy  the  countless 
blessings  which  had  so  filled  his  own  cup  to  overflowing. 

Centuries  ago,  Pythagoras,  Herodicus,  Hippocrates,  Iccus, 
Celsus,  and  Galen  —  as  have  some  in  every  age  —  waged  a 
bitter  warfare  against  unnatural  habits  of  life;  and  accounts 
of  the  attainment  of  extraordinary  age,  both  in  ancient  and 
modem  times,  are  not  uncommon.  The  autobiography  of  Cor- 
naro,  however,  who,  after  patient  search,  discovered  in  his  own 
person  the  curative  and  life-sustaining  power  of  the  temperate 
life,  —  and  that  beyond  the  century  mark,  —  and  who,  with 
equal  diligence,  labored  to  impress  upon  others  the  lesson  of 
his  own  experience,  affords  an  instance  without  parallel  in  all 
the  annals  of  history. 

In  a  very  brief  way  —  more  effective,  he  believed,  than 
if  written  at  greater  length  —  does  this  remarkable  man  hand 
down  to  posterity  his  conviction,  both  from  observation  and 
experience,  of  the  utter  worthlessness  of  the  kind  of  life  too 
often  seen  on  all  sides.  At  the  same  time  he  pictures  the 
reward  to  be  reaped  every  moment,  but  especially  in  old  age, 
from  a  life  spent  in  conformity  with  reason  and  Nature. 

Most  particularly  does  he  emphasize  the  greater  value  of 
the  later  years  of  life  as  compared  with  the  earlier  ones.  By 
the  time  men  have  acquired  knowledge,  judgment,  and  expe- 
rience, —  the  necessary  equipment  of  the  fullest  citizenship,  — 

32 


LIFE  OF  COENARO 

they  are  unable,  he  observes,  because  of  physical  degeneration, 
consequent  on  irrational  and  unnatural  methods  of  living,  to 
exercise  these  qualifications.  Such  men  are  then  cut  off  in 
their  prime,  leaving,  at  fifty  or  sixty,  their  life  work  but  half 
completed;  and  yet,  as  he  protests,  were  they  but  to  attain 
extreme  age  as  followers  of  the  life  he  led,  "How  much  more 
beautiful  would  they  make  the  world!" 

The  first  edition  of  ''La  Vita  Sohria"  —  the  work  on  which 
Comaro's  fame  chiefly  rests  —  was  published  at  Padua  in  the 
year  1558 ;  and  few  works  of  such  small  dimension  have  excited 
wider  or  more  fervid  discussion.  For  three  hundred  years 
this  treatise  has  been  a  classic  in  his  native  land.  Translated 
into  Latin,  as  also  into  many  modem  languages,  it  has  been 
popular  wherever  studied.  Slight  as  the  book  is,  it  has,  and 
■will  continue  to  have,  a  permanent  place  in  general  literature; 
though  we  believe  it  may  be  questioned  if  many  in  this  country, 
even  among  the  most  cultured  readers,  have  had  an  opportunity 
of  reading  it. 

To  those  only  imperfectly  acquainted  with  his  story,  Cor- 
naro  is  merely  a  famous  valetudinarian,  who  was  enabled,  by 
temperate  living,  to  pass  the  age  of  a  hundred.  Careful  readers 
of  the  book,  however,  will  always  remember  him  not  only  as  a 
most  charming  autobiographer,  but  also  as  a  man,  who,  having 
successfully  solved  one  of  life's  most  difficult  problems,  labored 
to  encourage  in  others  those  habits  which  had  proved  so  advan- 
tageous in  his  own  case.  His  assurance  that,  after  all,  this 
world  would  be  a  most  delightful  place  if  people  would  but  live 
temperately,  is  the  burden  of  his  message  to  mankind ;  and  who, 
today,  is  ready  to  declare  him  wrong  in  his  assertion  that  man, 
by  the  weak  indulgence  of  his  appetites,  has  always  shortened 
his  life  and  failed  to  reap  the  countless  blessings  within  his 
reach  ?  Convinced  that  from  this  source  come  most  of  the  ills 
that  flesh  is  heir  to,  Comaro  writes  with  the  confidence  that 
those  who  listen  to  him  earnestly  wiU  not  fail  to  heed  his  warn- 
ing. Thus,  also,  will  they  not  only  secure  that  perfect  health 
of  body  and  mind,  without  which  complete  happiness  can  never 
be  realized,  but  will  be  enabled  to  prolong,  in  honorable  en- 
deavor, that  enviable  condition  to  the  extreme  limit  intended 

33 


THE  AET  OF  LIVING  LONG 

by  Nature.  He  hoped  that  the  faithful  following  of  his  counsel 
would  transform  into  a  universal  hymn  of  joy  the  strain  of 
despairing  weariness,  —  so  evident  throughout  the  recorded 
thought  of  all  the  centuries,  —  in  which  men  of  all  nations  and 
ranks  of  life  have  deplored  the  early  loss  of  youth  and  vigor, 
and  lamented  the  resistless  strides  of  premature  old  age. 

A  simple  diet  was  almost  exclusively  the  nourishment  of 
the  oldest  peoples  of  Syria,  Egypt,  Greece,  and,  in  their  most 
glorious  days,  of  the  Romans;  and  when  man  shall  once  more 
take  to  heart  this  lesson  of  the  means  of  enjoying  uninter- 
rupted health  and  full  length  of  days,  —  blessings  which  in  ages 
long  past  were  almost  universally  enjoyed,  and  which  man  alone, 
and  the  animals  under  his  control,  now  fail  to  possess,  —  the 
world  will  everywhere  be  blessed  with  the  presence  of  those  who 
will  be  considered  in  their  prime  at  an  age  now  scarcely  believed 
attainable.  There  will  then  be  no  doubt  that  life  is  worth  liv- 
ing ;  and,  because  man  wiU  then  seek  only  its  true  and  enduring 
joys,  those  problems  that  for  ages  have  distressed  him  will 
vanish  of  themselves  —  problems  existing  only  because  of  the 
craving  of  the  unhealthy  human  brain  for  those  shadows  of  life 
80  long  pictured  as  its  substance. 

The  reader  will  have  spent  his  time  in  vain,  however,  if 
he  fails  to  appreciate  fully  the  vital  importance  of  the  fact 
that  Cornaro's  own  regimen,  as  he  most  strongly  insists,  was 
intended  for  himself  alone  —  that  he  does  not  urge  upon  every- 
one the  extreme  abstinence  practiced  by  himself.  All  persons, 
he  declares,  should  observe  the  temperate  life  prescribed  as 
Nature's  highest  law;  but,  as  the  temperance  of  one  man  is 
excess  in  his  neighbor,  each  must  discover  the  suitable  quantity 
and  quality  of  food  proper  in  his  own  individual  case,  and  then 
live  accordingly.  It  is  the  aim  and  spirit,  not  the  letter,  of  his 
example  that  he  implores  mankind  to  observe. 

While  Cornaro's  personal  dietary  habits  are  not,  indeed, 
applicable  in  detail  to  every  individual  constitution,  and  were 
never,  as  we  have  just  said,  intended  by  him  as  such,  yet  his 
general  rules  will  always  be  correct.  These  have  had  in  the 
past,  and  have  today,  many  followers ;  and  the  number  of  those 
who  faithfully  tread  in  the  pathway  indicated  for  them  by  the 

34 


LIFE  OF  COKNARO 

venerable  writer,  constantly  enjoying,  during  a  long  and  happy 
life,  the  blessings  promised  them,  will  continue  to  increase,  let 
us  hope,  until  it  includes,  in  the  not  remote  future,  the  vast 
majority  of  our  race.  Even  in  an  age  of  wealth  and  luxury, 
such  as  ours,  in  which  opportunities  rapidly  multiply  for  the 
gratification  of  every  sensuous  desire,  we  need  not  fear  that 
those  who  choose  to  be  critics  of  Cornaro  and  the  fundamental 
rules  of  his  teachings,  will  continue  to  find  willing  listeners. 
Let  us  hope  that,  in  time,  all  will  take  to  heart  the  lesson  taught 
mankind  by  the  bitter  experience  of  the  centuries:  that  the 
physical,  moral,  intellectual,  and  social  condition  now  so  almost 
hopelessly  universal,  is  but  the  inevitable  result  of  disobedience 
of  natural  law ;  and  that  man  has  but  himself  to  blame  when  he 
fails  to  possess  the  greatest  of  earthly  blessings  —  perfect  health 
of  body  and  mind  —  and  fullness  of  years  in  which  to  enjoy  it. 


d5 


Some,  as  thou  saw*st,  hy  violent  stroke  shall  die. 

By  fire,  flood,  famine;  by  intemperance  more 

In  meats  and  drinks,  which  on  the  Earth  shall  bring 

Diseases  dire,  of  which  a  monstrous  crew 

Before  thee  shall  appear,  that  thou  may'st  know 

Wliat  misery  the  inabstinence  of  Eve 

Shall  bring  on  men. 

If  thou  well  observe 
The  rule  of  *'Noi  too  much,**  by  temperance  taught 
In  what  thou  eat'st  and  drink'st,  seeking  from  thence 
Due  nourishment,  not  gluttonous  delight. 
Till  many  years  over  thy  head  return; 
So  mayst  thou  live,  till,  like  ripe  fruit,  thou  drop 
Into  thy  mother  s  lap,  or  be  with  ease 
Gathered,  not  harshly  plucked,  for  death  mature. 

— "Paradise  Lost.** 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 


BT 


LUIGI   CORNARO 


TRANSLATED  FEOM  THE  ITALIAN  OF  HIS 

"LA  VITA  SOBRIA" 


In  Which  He  Demonstbates,  by  His  Own  Example, 

A  SUEE  AND  CERTAIN  METHOD  OF  ATTAINING 

A  LONG  AND  HEALTHY  LIFE 


IN  FOUR  DISCOURSES 

WBITTKN,   SeVEKALLY,   AT  THE  AOES  OF   ElQHTY-THBEB, 

EiOHTY-six,  Ninety-one,  and  Ninety-five 


Divine  Sobriety,  pleasing  to  God,  the  friend  of 
nature,  the  daughter  of  reason,  the  sister  of  virtus,  the 
companion  of  temperate  living, . . .  the  loving  mother  of 
human  life,  the  true  medicine  both  of  the  soul  and  of  the 
body;  how  much  should  men  praise  and  thank  thee  for 
ihy  courteous  gifts!  for  thou  givest  them  the  means  of 
preserving  life  in  health,  that  blessing  than  which  it  did 
not  please  God  we  should  have  a  greater  in  this  world — 
life  and  existence,  so  naturally  prized,  so  willingly 
guarded  by  every  living  creature! — Luigi  Comaro. 


THE  FIRST  DISCOURSE 


WBITTEN  AT  THE  AGE  OF  EIGHTY-THBEB 


Wherein  the  author  details  the  method  by  which  he  corrected 

his  infirm  condition,  strengthened  his  naturally  weak 

constitution,  and  thenceforth  continued  in 

the  enjoyment  of  perfect  health 


IT  is  certain  that  habit,  in  man,  eventually  becomes 
second  nature,  compelling  him  to  practice  that  to 
which  he  has  become  accustomed,  regardless  of 
whether  such  a  thing  be  beneficial  or  injurious  to  him. 
Moreover,  we  see  in  many  instances  —  and  no  one  can 
call  this  into  question  —  that  the  force  of  habit  will 
triumph  even  over  reason.  Indeed,  if  a  man  of  good 
morals  frequents  the  company  of  a  bad  man,  it  very  often 
happens  that  he  will  change  from  good  to  bad.  Yet 
sometimes  the  contrary  is  equally  true;  namely,  that 
while  good  habits  often  change  readily  for  the  worse,  so 
also  do  bad  habits  change  to  good  ones;  since  a  wicked 
man  who  has  once  been  good  may  still,  by  frequenting 
the  society  of  the  good,  return  to  the  better  ways  which  he 

39 


THE  AET  OF  LIVING  LONG 

had  formerly  followed.  All  these  changes  must  be  at- 
tributed solely  to  the  force  of  habit,  which  is  truly  very 
great. 

It  is  in  consequence  of  this  powerful  force  of  habit, 
that  of  late,  —  indeed  during  my  own  lifetime  and 
memory,  —  three  evil  customs  have  gradually  gained  a 
foothold  in  our  own  Italy.  The  first  of  these  is  adulation 
and  ceremony,  the  second  is  heresy,  and  the  third  is  in- 
temperance. These  three  vices,  cruel  monsters  of  human 
life  as  they  truly  are,  have,  in  our  day,  prevailed  so  uni- 
versally as  to  have  impaired  the  sincerity  of  social  life, 
the  religion  of  the  soul,  and  the  health  of  the  body. 

Having  long  reflected  on  this  unfortunate  condition, 
I  have  now  determined  to  treat  of  the  last  of  these  vices  — 
intemperance;  and,  in  order  to  accomplish  all  I  can 
toward  abolishing  it,  I  shall  prove  that  it  is  an  abuse. 
With  regard  to  the  two  other  obnoxious  habits,  I  feel 
certain  that,  ere  long,  some  noble  mind  will  undertake 
the  task  of  condemning  them  and  removing  them  from 
among  us.  Thus  do  I  firmly  hope  that  I  shall,  before  I 
leave  this  world,  see  these  three  abuses  conquered  and 
crushed  out  of  Italy,  and,  consequently,  witness  the  re- 
turn Of  my  country  to  her  wise  and  beautiful  customs  of 
yore. 

Coming,  then,  to  that  evil  concerning  which  I  pro- 
pose to  speak,  —  the  vice  of  intemperance,  —  I  declare  that 
it  is  a  wicked  thing  that  it  should  prevail  to  such  an  extent 
as  to  greatly  lower,  nay,  almost  abolish,  the  temperate 
life.  For  though  it  is  well  known  by  all  that  intemper- 
ance proceeds  from  the  vice  of  gluttony,  and  temperance 
from  the  virtue  of  restraint,  nevertheless  the  former  is 
exalted  as  a  virtuous  thing  and  even  as  a  mark  of  dis- 
tinction, while  temperance  is  stigmatized  and  scorned  as 
dishonorable,  and  as  befitting  the  miserly  alone. 


LUIGI  COENAEO^S  TEEATISB 

These  false  nations  are  due  entirely  to  the  force  of 
habit;  bred  by  men's  senses  and  uncontrolled  appetites. 
It  is  this  craving  to  gratify  the  appetites  which  has 
allured  and  inebriated  men  to  such  a  degree  that, 
abandoning  the  path  of  virtue,  they  have  taken  to  follow- 
ing the  one  of  vice  —  a  road  which  leads  them,  though  they 
see  it  not,  to  strange  and  fatal  chronic  infirmities  through 
which  they  grow  prematurely  old.  Before  they  reach  the 
age  of  forty  their  health  has  been  completely  worn  out  — 
just  the  reverse  of  what  the  temperate  life  once  did  for 
them.  For  this,  before  it  was  banished  by  the  deadly 
habit  of  intemperance,  invariably  kept  all  its  followers 
strong  and  healthy,  even  to  the  age  of  fourscore  and 
upward. 

O  wretched  and  unhappy  Italy,  canst  thou  not  see 
that  intemperance  kills  every  year  amongst  thy  people  as 
great  a  number  as  would  perish  during  the  time  of  a  most 
dreadful  pestilence,  or  by  the  sword  or  fire  of  many 
bloody  wars !  And  these  truly  immoral  banquets  of  thine, 
now  so  commonly  the  custom,  —  feasts  so  great  and 
intolerable  that  the  tables  are  never  found  large  enough 
to  accommodate  the  innumerable  dishes  set  upon  them, 
so  that  they  must  be  heaped,  one  upon  another,  almost 
mountain  high,  —  must  we  not  brand  them  as  so  many 
destructive  battles!  Who  could  ever  live  amid  such 
a  multitude  of  disorders  and  excesses! 

Oh,  for  the  love  of  God,  I  conjure  you  to  apply  a 
remedy  to  this  unholy  condition!  for  I  am  certain  there 
is  no  vice  more  displeasing  to  His  Divine  Majesty  than 
this  fatal  one  of  intemperance.  Let  this  new  death,  worse 
than  any  pestilence  ever  known,  be  driven  out  of  Italy ;  as 
was  the  case  with  that  other  epidemic,  which,  though  it 
once  caused  so  much  misery,  nowadays  does  but  very 
little  harm,  —  indeed,  scarcely  any,  —  thanks  to  the  im- 

41 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

proved  state  of  affairs  brought  about  by  good  sanitary- 
regulations. 

For  there  is  a  remedy  by  which  we  may  banish  this 
fatal  vice  of  intemperance  —  an  easy  remedy,  and  one  of 
which  every  man  may  avail  himself  if  he  will ;  that  is,  to 
live  in  accordance  with  the  simplicity  of  Nature,  which 
teaches  us  to  be  satisfied  with  little,  to  follow  the  ways  of 
holy  self-control  and  divine  reason,  and  to  accustom  our- 
selves to  eat  nothing  but  that  which  is  necessary  to  sus- 
tain life. 

We  should  bear  in  mind  that  anything  more  than  this 
will  surely  be  followed  by  infirmity  and  death;  and  that 
while  intemperance  is  merely  a  gratification  of  the 
palat^  —  a  pleasure  that  vanishes  in  a  moment,  —  yet,  for 
a  long  time  afterward,  it  causes  the  body  much  suffering 
and  damage,  and  finally  destroys  it  together  with  the 
soul. 

I  have  seen  many  of  my  dearest  friends  and  associ- 
ates, men  endowed  with  splendid  gifts  of  intellect  and 
noble  qualities  of  heart,  fall,  in  the  prime  of  life,  victims 
of  this  dread  tyrant;  men  who,  were  they  yet  living, 
would  be  ornaments  to  the  world,  while  their  friendship 
and  company  would  add  to  my  enjoyment  in  the  same 
proportion  as  I  was  caused  sorrow  by  their  loss. 

Therefore,  to  prevent  so  great  an  evil  for  the  future, 
I  have  decided  to  point  out,  in  this  brief  treatise,  what  a 
fatal  abuse  is  the  vice  of  intemperance,  and  how  easily  it 
may  be  removed  and  replaced  by  the  temperate  habits  of 
life  which  were  formerly  universal.  And  this  I  under- 
take all  the  more  willingly,  since  I  have  been  pressed 
thereunto  by  a  number  of  young  men  of  the  brightest 
intellect,  who  are  well  aware  that  intemperance  is  a  fatal 
vice;  for  they  have  seen  their  fathers  die  from  its  effects 
in  the  flower  of  manhood,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  they 

42 


s, 


LUIGI  CORNARO^S  TREATISE 


behold  me  still  hale  and  flourishing  at  my  great  age  of 
eighty-three  years. 

Now,  Nature  does  not  deny  us  the  power  of  living 
many  years.  Indeed,  old  age,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  is  the 
time  of  life  to  be  most  coveted,  as  it  is  then  that  prudence 
is  best  exercised,  and  the  fruits  of  all  the  other  virtues 
are  enjoyed  with  the  least  opposition;  because,  by  that 
time,  the  passions  are  subdued,  and  man  gives  himself  up 
wholly  to  reason. 

Hence,  being  desirous  that  they  likewise  may  attain 
old  age,  these  young  people  have  besought  me  that  I  may 
be  pleased  to  tell  them  the  means  by  which  I  have  been 
able  to  reach  this  advanced  age.  And  since  I  perceive 
them  full  of  so  honest  a  desire,  and  as  I  heartily  wish  to 
benefit  not  only  them,  but  those  others  also  who  may  wish 
to  read  this  brief  treatise  of  mine,  I  shall  now  set  forth, 
in  writing,  the  cause  which  induced  me  to  abandon  my 
intemperate  habits,  and  to  embrace  the  orderly  and 
temperate  life.  I  shall  likewise  relate  the  manner  in 
which  I  went  about  this  reform,  and  the  good  results  I 
afterward  experienced  through  it;  whence  it  will  be 
clearly  seen  how  easy  a  matter  it  is  to  overcome  the  habit 
of  excess.  And  I  shall  demonstrate,  in  conclusion,  how 
much  that  is  good  and  advantageous  is  to  be  derived  from 
the  temperate  life. 

I  say,  then,  that  the  dire  infirmities  from  which  I 
constantly  suffered,  and  which  had  not  only  invaded  my 
system,  but  had  gained  such  headway  as  to  have  become 
most  serious,  were  the  cause  of  my  renouncing  the  errors 
of  intemperance  to  which  I  had  been  very  much  addicted. 

The  excesses  of  my  past  life,  together  with  my  bad 
constitution,  —  my  stomach  being  very  cold  and  moist,  — 
had  caused  me  to  fall  a  prey  to  various  ailments,  such 
as  pains  in  the  stomach,  frequent  pains  in  the  side, 

43 


THE  ABT  OF  LIVING  LONG 

Bymptoms  of  gout,  and,  still  worse,  a  low  fever  that  was 
almost  continuous;  but  I  suffered  especially  from  dis- 
order of  the  stomach,  and  from  an  unquenchable  thirst. 
This  evil  —  nay,  worse  than  evil  —  condition  left  me 
nothing  to  hope  for  myself,  except  that  death  should 
terminate  my  troubles  and  the  weariness  of  my  life  —  a 
life  as  yet  far  removed  from  its  natural  end,  though 
brought  near  to  a  close  by  my  wrong  manner  of  living. 

After  every  known  means  of  cure  had  been  tried, 
without  affording  me  any  relief,  I  was,  between  my 
thirty-fifth  and  fortieth  years,  reduced  to  so  infirm  a 
condition  that  my  physicians  declared  there  was  but  one 
remedy  left  for  my  ills  —  a  remedy  which  would  surely 
conquer  them,  provided  I  would  make  up  my  mind  to 
apply  it  and  persevere  patiently  in  its  use. 

That  remedy  was  the  temperate  and  orderly  life, 
which,  they  assured  me,  possessed  as  great  strength  and 
efficacy  for  the  accomplishment  of  good  results,  as  that 
other,  which  was  completely  its  opposite  in  every  way,  — 
I  mean  an  intemperate  and  disorderly  life,  —  possessed 
for  doing  harm.  And  of  the  power  of  these  two  opposite 
manners  of  living  I  should  entertain  no  doubt;  both  by 
reason  of  the  fact  that  my  infirmities  had  been  caused  by 
disorder,  —  though,  indeed,  I  was  not  yet  reduced  to  such 
extremity  that  I  might  not  be  wholly  freed  from  them  by 
the  temperate  life,  which  counteracts  the  effects  of  an 
intemperate  one,  —  and  because  it  is  obvious  that  this 
regular  and  orderly  life  preserves  in  health  even  per- 
sons of  feeble  constitution  and  decrepit  age,  as  long 
as  they  observe  it.  It  is  equally  manifest  that  the  oppo- 
site life,  an  irregular  and  disorderly  one,  has  the  power 
to  ruin,  while  in  the  strength  of  early  manhood,  the  con- 
stitutions of  men  endowed  with  robustness,  and  to  keep 
them  sick  for  a  great  length  of  time.     All  this  is  in 

44 


LUIGI  CORNAEO^S  TREATISE 

accordance  with  the  natural  law  which  ordains  that 
contrary  ways  of  living  must  necessarily  produce  con- 
trary effects.  Art  .itself,  imitating  in  this  the  processes 
of  nature,  will  gradually  correct  natural  defects  and  im- 
perfections—  a  principle  we  find  clearly  exemplified  in 
agriculture  and  other  similar  things. 

My  physicians  warned  me,  in  conclusion,  that  if  I 
neglected  to  apply  this  remedy,  in  a  short  time  it  would 
be  too  late  to  derive  any  benefit  from  it;  for,  in  a  few 
months,  I  should  certainly  die. 

I,  who  was  very  sad  at  the  thought  of  dying  at  so 
early  an  age  and  yet  was  continually  tormented  by  sick- 
ness, having  heard  these  good  and  plausible  reasons,  grew 
thoroughly  convinced  that  from  order  and  from  disorder 
must  of  necessity  proceed  the  contrary  effects  which  I 
have  mentioned;  and,  fired  with  hope,  I  resolved  that,  in 
order  to  escape  death  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  be 
delivered  from  my  sufferings,  I  would  embrace  the  orderly 
life. 

Having  been  instructed  by  my  physicians  as  to  the 
method  I  was  to  adopt,  I  understood  that  I  was  not  to 
partake  of  any  foods,  either  solid  or  liquid,  save  such  as 
are  prescribed  for  invalids;  and,  of  these,  in  small 
quantities  only.  To  tell  the  truth,  diet  had  been  pre- 
scribed for  me  before;  but  it  had  been  at  a  time,  when, 
preferring  to  live  as  I  pleased  and  being  weary  of  such 
foods,  I  did  not  refrain  from  gratifying  myself  by  eating 
freely  of  all  those  things  which  were  to  my  taste.  And 
being  consumed,  as  it  were,  by  fever,  I  did  not  hesitate  to 
continue  drinking,  and  in  large  quantities,  the  wines 
which  pleased  my  palate.  Of  all  this,  of  course,  after  the 
fashion  of  invalids,  I  never  breathed  a  word  to  my 
physicians. 

After  I  had  once  taken  a  firm  resolution  that  I  would 

45 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

henceforth  live  temperately  and  rationally,  and  had 
realized,  as  I  did,  that  to  do  so  was  not  only  an  easy 
matter,  but,  indeed,  the  duty  of  every  man,  I  entered  upon 
my  new  course  so  heartily  that  I  never  afterward 
swerved  from  it,  nor  ever  committed  the  slightest  excess 
in  any  direction.  Within  a  few  days  I  began  to  realize 
that  this  new  life  suited  my  health  excellently;  and,  per- 
severing in  it,  in  less  than  a  year  —  though  the  fact  may 
seem  incredible  to  some  —  I  found  myself  entirely  cured 
of  all  my  complaints. 

Now  that  I  was  in  perfect  health,  I  began  to  consider 
seriously  the  power  and  virtue  of  order;  and  I  said  to 
myself  that,  as  it  had  been  able  to  overcome  so  many  and 
such  great  ills  as  mine,  it  would  surely  be  even  more 
efficacious  to  preserve  me  in  health,  to  assist  my  un- 
fortunate constitution,  and  to  strengthen  my  extremely 
weak  stomach. 

Accordingly,  I  began  to  observe  very  diligently 
what  kinds  of  food  agreed  with  me.  I  determined,  in  the 
first  place,  to  experiment  with  those  which  were  most 
agreeable  to  my  palate,  in  order  that  I  might  learn  if  they 
were  suited  to  my  stomach  and  constitution.  The  prov- 
erb, ^'Whatever  tastes  good  will  nourish  and  strengthen/^ 
is  generally  regarded  as  embodying  a  truth,  and  is  in- 
voked, as  a  first  principle,  by  those  who  are  sensually  in- 
clined. In  it  I  had  hitherto  firmly  believed;  but  now  I 
was  resolved  to  test  the  matter,  and  find  to  what  extent, 
if  any,  it  was  true. 

My  experience,  however,  proved  this  saying  to  be 
false.  For  instance,  dry  and  very  cold  wine  was  agree- 
able to  my  taste;  as  were  also  melons;  and,  among  other 
garden  produce,  raw  salads;  also  fish,  pork,  tarts,  vege- 
table soups,  pastries,  and  other  similar  articles.  All  of 
these,  I  say,  suited  my  taste  exactly,  and  yet  I  found  they 

46 


LUI6I  CORNABO^S   TREATISE 

were  hurtful  to  me.  Thus  having,  by  my  own  experience, 
proved  the  proverb  in  question  to  be  erroneous,  I  ever 
after  looked  upon  it  as  such,  and  gave  up  the  use  of  that 
kind  of  food  and  of  that  kind  of  wine,  as  well  as  cold 
drinking.  Instead,  I  chose  only  such  wines  as  agreed 
with  my  stomach,  taking  of  them  only  such  a  quantity  as 
I  knew  it  could  easily  digest;  and  I  observed  the  same 
rule  with  regard  to  my  food,  exercising  care  both  as  to 
the  quantity  and  the  quality.  In  this  manner,  I  ac- 
customed myself  to  the  habit  of  never  fully  satisfying  my 
appetite,  either  with  eating  or  drinking  —  always  leaving 
the  table  well  able  to  take  more.  In  this  I  acted  accord- 
ing to  the  proverb:  ^'l!^ot  to  satiate  one's  self  with  food 
is  the  science  of  health/' 

Being  thus  rid,  for  the  reasons  and  in  the  manner 
I  have  given,  of  intemperance  and  disorder,  I  devoted  my- 
self entirely  to  the  sober  and  regular  life.  This  had  such 
a  beneficial  effect  upon  me  that,  in  less  than  a  year  as  I 
have  just  said,  I  was  entirely  freed  from  all  the  ills  which 
had  been  so  deeply  rooted  in  my  system  as  to  have  become 
almost  incurable. 

Another  excellent  result  which  this  new  life  effected 
in  me  was  that  I  no  longer  fell  sick  every  year  —  as  I  had 
always  previously  done  while  following  my  former  sensual 
manner  of  life  —  of  a  strange  fever,  which  at  times  had 
brought  me  near  to  death's  door;  but,  under  my  new 
regimen,  from  this  also  was  I  delivered. 

In  a  word,  I  grew  most  healthy ;  and  I  have  remained 
so  from  that  time  to  this  day,  and  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  of  my  constant  fidelity  to  the  orderly  life.  The 
unbounded  virtue  of  this  is,  that  that  which  I  eat  and 
drink,  —  always  being  such  as  agrees  with  my  constitution 
and,  in  quantity,  such  as  it  should  be,  —  after  it  has  im- 
parted its  invigorating  elements  to  my  body,  leaves  it 

47 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

without  any  difficulty  and  without  ever  generating  within 
it  any  bad  humors.  Whence,  following  this  rule,  as  I 
have  already  said,  I  have  constantly  been,  and  am  now  — 
thank  God !  —  most  healthy. 

It  is  true,  however,  that  besides  these  two  very 
important  rules  which  I  have  always  so  carefully  ob- 
served, relative  to  eating  and  drinking,  —  namely,  to  take 
only  the  quantity  which  my  stomach  can  easily  digest  and 
only  the  kinds  that  agree  with  it,  —  I  have  also  been  care- 
ful to  guard  against  great  heat  and  cold,  as  well  as 
extreme  fatigue  or  excesses  of  any  nature;  I  have  never 
allowed  my  accustomed  sleep  and  rest  to  be  interfered 
with ;  I  have  avoided  remaining  for  any  length  of  time  in 
places  poorly  ventilated;  and  have  been  careful  not  to 
expose  myself  too  much  to  the  wind  or  the  sun ;  for  these 
things,  too,  are  great  disorders.  Yet  it  is  not  a  very 
difficult  matter  to  avoid  them;  for,  in  a  being  endowed 
with  reason,  the  desire  of  life  and  health  possesses  greater 
weight  than  the  mere  pleasure  of  doing  things  which  are 
known  to  be  hurtful. 

I  have  also  preserved  myself,  as  far  as  I  have  been 
able,  from  those  other  disorders  from  which  it  is  more 
difficult  to  be  exempt;  I  mean  melancholy,  hatred,  and 
the  other  passions  of  the  soul,  which  all  appear  greatly 
to  affect  the  body.  However,  my  efforts  in  this  direc- 
tion have  not  been  so  successful  as  to  preserve  me  wholly ; 
since,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  I  have  been  subject  to 
either  one  or  the  other  of  these  disturbances,  not  to  say 
all  of  them.  Yet  even  this  fact  has  proved  useful  to 
me;  for  my  experience  has  convinced  me  that,  in  reality, 
these  disorders  have  not  much  power  over,  nor  can  they 
do  much  harm  to,  the  bodies  of  those  whose  lives  are 
governed  by  the  two  rules  I  have  already  mentioned 
relative   to  eating  and   drinking.     So   I   can   say,   with 

48 


LUIGI   CORNARO^S   TREATISE 

truth,  that  whosoever  observes  these  two  principal  rules 
can  suffer  but  little  from  any  disorder. 

Galen,*  the  famous  physician,  bore  testimony  to  this 
truth  long  before  my  time.  He  asserts  that  all  other 
disorders  caused  him  but  very  little  harm,  because  he 
had  learned  to  guard  against  those  of  excessive  eating 
and  drinking;  and  that,  for  this  reason,  he  was  never 
indisposed  for  more  than  a  day.  That  this  is  indeed 
true,  I  can  bear  living  testimony,  corroborated  by  the 
statement  of  everybody  who  knows  me;  for  my  friends, 
well  aware  that  I  have  often  suffered  exposure  to  cold, 
heat,  and  other  similar  disorders,  have  also  seen  me  dis- 
turbed in  mind  on  account  of  various  misfortunes  that 
have  befallen  me  at  different  times.  Nevertheless,  they 
know  that  these  troubles  of  mine  have  harmed  me  but 
little;  but  they  can  testify  to  the  considerable  damage 
which  these  very  things  have  brought  to  others  who  were 
not  followers  of  the  temperate  and  regular  life. 

Among  these  I  may  number  a  brother  of  mine,  and 
several  other  near  relatives;  who,  trusting  to  their  good 
constitutions,  did  not  follow  the  temperate  life  —  a  fact 
which  was  the  cause  of  grave  harm  to  them.  Their 
perturbations  of  mind  exercised  great  influence  over 
their  bodies;  and  such  was  the  anxiety  and  melancholy 
with  which  they  were  overwhelmed  when  they  saw  me 
involved  in  certain  highly  important  lawsuits  brought 
against  me  by  men  of  power  and  position,  and  so  great 
was  their  fear  that  I  should  lose,  that  they  were  seized 
with  the  humor  of  melancholy,  of  which  the  bodies  of 
those  who  live  irregularly  are  always  full.  This  humor 
so  embittered  their  lives,  and  grew  upon  them  to  such 
a  degree,  that  it  brought  them  to  the  grave  before  their 
time. 

Yet  I  suffered  nothing  throughout  it  all ;  for,  in  me, 

•  See  Note  G 

49 


THE  ART  OF   LIVING  LONG 

this  humor  was  not  excessive.  On  the  contrary,  encour- 
aging myself,  I  tried  to  believe  that  God  had  permitted 
those  lawsuits  to  be  brought  against  me  in  order  that  my 
own  strength  and  courage  might  better  be  made  known, 
and  that  I  should  win  them  to  my  own  advantage  and 
honor;  as  in  fact  I  eventually  did,  gaining  a  glorious 
and  profitable  victory.  And  the  very  great  consolation 
of  soul  I  then  experienced  had,  in  its  turn,  no  power  to 
harm  me. 

V  It  is  thus  clear  that  neither  melancholy  nor  any 

other  disorder  can  seriously  injure  bodies  governed  by 
the  orderly  and  temperate  life.  Nay,  I  shall  go  still 
further,  and  assert  that  even  accidents  have  the  power 
to  do  but  little  harm,  or  cause  but  little  pain,  to  the  fol- 
lowers of  such  a  life. 

The  truth  of  this  statement  I  learned  by  my  own 
v/  experience  at  the  age  of  seventy.  It  happened,  one  day, 
while  driving  at  a  high  rate  of  speed,  I  met  with  an  acci- 
dent. My  carriage  was  overturned,  and  was  dragged  quite 
a  distance  before  the  horses  could  be  stopped.  Being  un- 
able to  extricate  myself,  I  was  very  badly  hurt.  My  head 
and  the  rest  of  my  body  were  painfully  bruised,  while 
one  of  my  arms  and  one  of  my  legs  received  especially 
severe  injuries. 

I  was  brought  home,  and  my  family  sent  immediately 
for  the  doctors;  who,  when  they  had  come  and  found  me 
at  my  advanced  age  so  shaken  and  in  so  bad  a  plight, 
could  not  help  giving  their  opinion  that  I  would  die  within 
three  days. 

They  suggested  two  things,  however,  as  their  only 
hopes  for  my  recovery:  one  was  bleeding,  the  other  was 
purging;  in  order,  as  they  said,  to  cleanse  my  system 
and  thus  prevent  the  alteration  of  the  humors,  which 
they  expected  at  any  moment  to  become  so  much  dis- 

50 


JOSEPH  ADDISON 

From   the   painting    by   Sir  Godfrey  Kneller 

National  Portrait  Gallery,  London 
Photograph  copyrighted  by  Walker  and  Gx:kerell 


LUIGI  COENARO^S  TREATISE 

turbed  as  to  produce  high  fever.  I,  nevertheless,  con- 
vinced that  the  regular  life  I  had  led  for  many  years 
bad  united,  equalized,  and  disposed  of  all  my  humors  so 
well  that  they  could  not  possibly  be  subject  to  so  great  al- 
teration, refused  either  to  be  bled  or  to  take  any  medicine. 
I  merely  had  my  arm  and  leg  straightened,  and  per- 
mitted my  body  to  be  rubbed  with  certain  oils  which 
were  recommended  by  the  physicians  as  appropriate 
under  the  circumstances.  It  followed  that,  without  using 
any  other  kind  of  remedy  and  without  suffering  any 
further  ill  or  change  for  the  worse,  I  entirely  recovered  — 
a  thing,  which,  while  fulfilling  my  own  expectations, 
seemed  to  my  doctors  nothing  less  than  miraculous. 

The  unavoidable  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  this 
is,  that  any  man  who  leads  the  regular  and  temperate 
life,  not  swerving  from  it  in  the  least  degree  where  his 
nourishment  is  concerned,  can  be  but  little  affected  by 
other  disorders  or  incidental  mishaps.  Whereas,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  truly  conclude  that  disorderly  habits  of 
living  are  those  which  are  fatal. 

By  a  recent  experience  of  mine  —  that  is,  as  late  as 
four  years  ago  —  this  was  proved  to  me  unmistakably. 
Having  been  induced  by  the  advice  of  my  physicians, 
the  admonitions  of  my  friends  and  their  loving  exhorta- 
tions, to  make  a  change  in  my  manner  of  living,  I  found 
this  change  —  consisting  in  an  increase  in  the  ordinary 
quantity  of  food  —  to  be,  in  reality,  a  disorder  of 
much  greater  importance  than  might  have  been  expected ; 
since  it  brought  on  me  a  most  severe  illness.  As  the 
whole  event  is  appropriate  here,  and  because  the  knowl- 
edge of  it  may  be  of  advantage  to  others,  I  shall  now  re- 
late it  in  all  its  particulars. 

My  dearest  relatives  and  friends,  who  love  and 
cnerish  me  devotedly  and  are  inspired  by  warm  and  true 

53 


THE   ART  OF   LIVING  LONG 

aflfection,  observed  how  very  little  I  ate,  and,  in  unison 
with  my  physicians,  told  me  that  the  food  I  took  could 
not  possibly  be  sufficient  to  sustain  a  man  of  an  age  so 
advanced  as  mine.  They  argued  that  I  should  not  only 
preserve,  but  rather  aim  to  increase,  my  strength  and 
vigor.  And  as  this  could  only  be  done  by  means  of  nourish- 
ment, it  was  absolutely  necessary,  they  said,  that  I  should 
eat  rather  more  abundantly. 

I,  on  the  other  hand,  brought  forward  my  reasons 
to  the  contrary;  namely,  that  nature  is  satisfied  with 
little;  that  my  spare  diet  had  been  found  sufficient  to 
preserve  me  in  health  all  these  many  years;  and  that, 
with  me,  this  abstemious  habit  had  long  since  become 
second  nature.  I  maintained,  furthermore,  that  it  was 
in  harmony  with  reason  that,  as  my  age  increased 
and  my  strength  lessened,  I  should  diminish,  rather  than 
Increase,  the  quantity  of  my  food.  This  was  true;  since 
the  digestive  powers  of  the  stomach  were  also  growing 
weaker  in  the  same  proportion  as  my  vigor  became  im- 
paired. Wherefore  I  could  see  no  reason  why  I  should  in- 
crease my  diet. 

To  strengthen  my  argument,  I  quoted  those  two 
natural  and  obviously  true  proverbs:  the  one,  that 
*^Who8oever  wishes  to  eat  much  must  eat  little^' -^  which. 
means  simply  that  the  eating  of  little  lengthens  a  man's 
life,  and  by  living  a  long  time  he  is  enabled  to  eat  a 
great  deal;  the  other,  that  ^^The  food  from  which  a  man 
abstains,  after  he  has  eaten  heartily,  is  of  more  benefit 
to  him  than  that  which  he  has  eaten/' 

However,  neither  of  these  wise  sayings,  nor  any 
other  argument  I  could  offer,  proved  effectual;  for  my 
friends  only  pressed  me  the  harder.  Now,  I  did  not 
like  to  appear  obstinate  or  as  though  I  considered  myself 
more   of   a   doctor   than   the   very   doctors   themselves; 

54 


LUIGI  CORNARO'S   TREATISE 

moreover,  I  especially  wished  to  please  my  family,  who 
desired  it  very  earnestly,  believing,  as  they  did,  that 
such  an  increase  in  my  ordinary  allowance  would  be 
beneficial  to  my  strength.  So  I  at  last  yielded,  and  con- 
sented to  add  to  the  quantity  of  my  food.  This  increase, 
however,  was  by  only  two  ounces  in  weight;  so  that, 
while,  with  bread,  the  yolk  of  an  egg,  a  little  meat,  and 
some  soup,  I  had  formerly  eaten  as  much  as  would  weigh 
in  all  exactly  twelve  ounces,  I  now  went  so  far  as  to 
raise  the  amount  to  fourteen  ounces;  and,  while  I  had 
formerly  drunk  but  fourteen  ounces  of  wine,  I  now  began 
to  take  sixteen  ounces. 

The  disorder  of  this  increase  had,  at  the  end  of  ten 
days,  begun  to  afifect  me  so  much,  that,  instead  of  being 
cheerful,  as  I  had  ever  been,  I  became  melancholy  and 
choleric;  everything  annoyed  me;  and  my  mood  was  so 
wayward  that  I  neither  knew  what  to  say  to  others  nor 
what  to  do  with  myself.  At  the  end  of  twelve  days  I 
was  seized  with  a  most  violent  pain  in  the  side,  which 
continued  twenty-two  hours.  This  was  followed  by  a 
terrible  fever,  which  lasted  thirty-five  days  and  as  many 
nights  without  a  moment's  Interruption;  although,  to 
tell  the  truth,  it  kept  constantly  diminishing  after  the 
fifteenth  day.  Notwithstanding  such  abatement,  how- 
ever, during  all  that  period  I  was  never  able  to  sleep  for 
even  half  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour;  hence,  everybody  be- 
lieved that  I  would  surely  die.  However,  I  recovered  — 
God  be  praised !  —  solely  by  returning  to  my  former  rule 
of  life;  although  I  was  then  seventy-eight  years  of  age, 
and  it  was  just  in  the  heart  of  the  coldest  season  of  a  very 
cold  year,  and  I  as  frail  in  body  as  could  be. 

I  am  firmly  convinced  that  nothing  rescued  me  from 
death  but  the  orderly  life  which  I  had  observed  for  so 
many  years;  in  all  of  which  time  no  kind  of  sickness  had 

55 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

ever  visited  me,  unless  I  may  call  by  that  name  some 
slight  indisposition  lasting  a  day  or  two  only.  The 
steady  rule  of  life  I  had  so  long  observed  had  not,  as 
I  have  already  said,  allowed  the  generation  of  any  evil 
or  excessive  humors  in  my  body;  or,  if  any  had  been 
formed,  it  had  not  permitted  them  to  acquire  strength 
or  to  become  malignant,  as  is  the  case  in  the  bodies  of 
old  persons  who  live  without  restraint.  Consequently,  as 
in  my  system  there  was  none  of  that  chronic  viciousness 
of  humors  which  kills  men,  but  only  that  new  condition 
brought  about  by  my  recent  irregularity,  this  attack  of 
illness  —  although  indeed  very  serious  —  was  not  able  to 
cause  my  death. 

This,  and  nothing  else,  was  the  means  of  my  recov- 
ery; whence  we  may  judge  how  great  are  the  power  and 
virtue  of  order,  and  how  great  is  the  power  of  disorder  — 
the  latter  having  been  able,  in  a  few  days,  to  bring  upon 
me  a  sickness  which  proved  to  be  so  terrible;  whereas 
the  regular  and  temperate  life  had  maintained  me  in  per- 
fect health  during  so  many  years.  And  it  seems  to  me 
most  reasonable  that,  if  the  world  is  maintained  by  order, 
and  if  our  life  is  nothing  else  —  so  far  as  the  body  is 
concerned  —  but  the  harmony  and  order  of  the  four  ele- 
ments, it  must  follow  that  only  through  this  same  order 
can  our  life  be  sustained;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
ruined  by  sickness  or  dissolved  by  death,  according  as 
this  order  is  not  observed.  It  is  through  order  that  the 
sciences  are  more  easily  mastered;  it  is  order  that  gives 
the  victory  to  armies;  and,  finally,  it  is  due  to  order  that  the 
stability  of  families,  of  cities,  and  even  of  governments, 
is  maintained. 

Therefore  I  conclude  that  orderly  living  is  the  most 
I)Ositive  law  and  foundation  of  a  long  and  healthy  life. 
We  may  say  it  is  the  true  and  only  medicine;  and  who- 

56 


LUIGI  COENAEO'S   TEBATISB 

ever  considers  all  this  deliberately  must  declare  it  is  in- 
deed so. 

When  a  physician  pays  a  visit  to  a  sick  man,  he  pre- 
scribes this  as  the  very  first  condition  of  recovery,  urging 
him,  above  all  things,  to  live  the  orderly  life.  In  like 
manner,  when  he  bids  good-bye  to  his  patient  upon  his 
recovery,  he  recommends,  as  a  means  of  preserving  re- 
stored health,  that  he  continue  this  orderly  life.  And 
there  is  no  doubt  that  if  the  one  so  advised  were  to  act 
accordingly,  he  would  avoid  all  sickness  in  the  future; 
because  a  well-regulated  life  removes  the  causes  of  disease. 
Thus,  for  the  remainder  of  his  days,  he  would  have  no 
further  need  either  of  doctors  or  of  medicines. 

Moreover,  by  applying  his  mind  to  this  matter  which 
should  so  deeply  concern  him,  he  would  become  his  own 
physician,  and,  indeed,  the  only  perfect  one  he  could  have ; 
for  it  is  true  that  "A  man  cannot  he  a  perfect  physician 
of  any  one  save  of  himself  alone/' 

The  reason  of  this  is  that  any  man  may,  by  dint  of 
experimenting,  acquire  a  perfect  knowledge  of  his  own 
constitution  and  of  its  most  hidden  qualities,  and  find 
out  what  food  and  what  drink,  and  what  quantities  of 
each,  will  agree  with  his  stomach.  It  is  impossible  to  have 
equally  accurate  knowledge  of  these  things  in  another 
person;  since  it  is  only  with  difficulty  that  we  may  dis- 
cover them  in  ourselves.  And  to  learn  them  in  our  own 
cases,  great  attention,  considerable  time,  and  much  study 
are  required.  Nor  must  we  overlook  the  fact  that  various 
experiments  are  absolutely  necessary;  for  there  is  not  so 
great  a  variety  of  features  as  there  is  diversity  of  tempera- 
ments and  stomachs  among  men. 

Who  would  believe,  for  instance,  that  wine  over  a 
year  old  would  be  hurtful  to  my  stomach,  while  new  wine 
would  be  suitable  to  it?  and  that  pepper,  which  is  com- 

57 


THE  ART  OF   LIVING  LONG 

monly  considered  a  heating  spice,  would  not  act  upon 
me  as  such,  but  that  cinnamon  would  warm  and  help  me? 
What  physician  could  have  informed  me  of  these  two 
hidden  qualities  of  my  nature;  since  I  myself,  after  a 
long  course  of  observation,  have  barely  been  able  to  note 
and  find  them? 

Therefore,  I  say  again,  from  all  these  reasons  it  fol- 
lows that  it  is  impossible  for  anyone  to  be  a  perfect 
physician  of  another.  Since,  then,  a  man  can  have  no 
better  doctor  than  himself,  and  no  better  medicine  than 
the  temperate  life,  he  should  by  all  means  embrace  that 
Hfe. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say,  however,  that  in  the  knowledge 
and  treatment  of  the  diseases  incurred  by  those  who  do 
not  lead  orderly  lives,  there  is  no  need  of  the  physician, 
or  that  he  should  not  be  valued  highly.  For,  if  a  friend 
brings  comfort  when  he  comes  to  us  in  time  of  sickness, 
■ — though  his  visit  be  merely  to  manifest  sympathy  in 
our  suffering  and  to  encourage  us  to  hope  for  recovery,  — 
how  much  the  more  ought  we  to  appreciate  the  physician 
who  is  a  friend  visiting  us  that  he  may  be  of  service, 
and  who  promises  to  restore  our  health?  Yet,  when  it 
comes  to  a  question  of  preserving  health,  my  opinion  is 
that  we  should  take,  as  our  proper  physician,  the  regular 
and  temperate  life.  For,  as  we  have  seen,  it  is  the  true 
medicine  of  nature  and  best  suited  to  man;  it  keeps  him 
in  health,  even  though  he  be  of  an  unfortunate  constitu- 
tion; it  enables  him  to  retain  his  strength  to  the  age  of 
a  hundred  years  or  more;  and,  finally,  it  does  not  suffer 
him  to  pass  away  through  sickness  or  by  any  alteration 
of  the  humors,  but  simply  by  the  coming  to  an  end  of 
the  radical  moisture,  which  is  exhausted  at  the  last. 
Learned  men  have  often  asserted  that  similar  effects 
could  be  obtained  by  means  of  drinkable  gold  or   the 

58 


LUIGI   CORNARO^S   TREATISE 

"elixir  of  life";  yet,  though  they  have  thus  been  sought 
by  many,  who  have  found  them? 

Let  us  be  truthful.  Men  are,  as  a  rule,  very  sensual 
and  intemperate,  and  wish  to  gratify  their  appetites  and 
give  themselves  up  to  the  commission  of  innumerable  dis- 
orders. When,  seeing  that  they  cannot  escape  suffering 
the  unavoidable  consequence  of  such  intemperance  as  often 
as  they  are  guilty  of  it,  they  say  —  by  way  of  excuse  — 
that  it  is  preferable  to  live  ten  years  less  and  to  enjoy 
one's  life.  They  do  not  pause  to  consider  what  immense 
importance  ten  years  more  of  life,  and  especially  of 
healthy  life,  possess  when  we  have  reached  mature  age, 
the  time,  indeed,  at  which  men  appear  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage in  learning  and  virtue  —  two  things  which  can 
never  reach  their  perfection  except  with  time.  To  men- 
tion nothing  else  at  present,  I  shall  only  say  that,  in 
literature  and  in  the  sciences,  the  majority  of  the  best 
and  most  celebrated  works  we  possess  were  written 
when  their  authors  had  attained  ripe  age,  and  during 
those  same  ten  latter  years  for  which  some  men,  in  order 
that  they  may  gratify  their  appetites,  say  they  do  not 
care. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  I  have  not  chosen  to  imitate  them ; 
on  the  contrary,  I  have  chosen  to  live  these  ten  years. 
Had  I  not  done  so,  I  should  never  have  written  the  treat- 
ises, which,  as  I  have  been  alive  and  well,  I  have  been  able 
to  write  during  the  last  ten  years;  and  that  they  will 
prove  useful  I  have  no  doubt. 

Furthermore,  the  aforesaid  followers  of  sensuality 
will  tell  you  that  the  temperate  and  orderly  life  is  an 
impossible  one.  To  which  I  answer:  Galen,  great  as  a 
physician,  led  it,  and  chose  it  as  the  best  medicine.  So, 
likewise,  did  Plato,  Cicero,  Isocrates,  and  many  other 
famous  men  in  times  past;  whose  names,  lest  I  grow 

59 


THE  ART   OF   LIVING  LONG 

tedious,  I  shall  forbear  to  mention.  In  our  own  time, 
we  have  seen  Pope  Paul  Farnese  [1468-1549]  and  Car- 
dinal Bembo  [1470-1547]  lead  this  life,  and  for  this 
reason  attain  great  age;  the  same  may  be  said  of  our 
two  Doges,*  Lando  [1462-1545]  and  Donato  [1468-1553]. 
Besides  these,  we  might  mention  many  others  in  humbler 
states  and  conditions,  not  only  in  the  cities,  but  in  the 
country  also ;  for  in  every  place  there  are  to  be  found  those 
who  follow  the  temperate  life,  and  always  to  their  own 
considerable  advantage. 

Seeing,  therefore,  that  it  has  been  practiced  in  the 
past,  and  that  many  are  now  practicing  it,  the  temperate 
life  is  clearly  proved  to  be  one  easily  followed;  and  all 
the  more  so  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  it  does  not  call  for 
any  great  exertion.  Indeed  —  as  is  stated  by  the  above- 
mentioned  Cicero  and  by  all  who  follow  it  —  the  only  diffi- 
culty, if  any  there  be,  consists  in  making  a  beginning. 

Plato,  himself  living  the  temperate  life,  nevertheless 
declares  that  a  man  in  the  service  of  the  State  cannot 
lead  it;  because  he  is  often  compelled  to  suffer  heat  and 
cold  and  fatigues  of  various  kinds,  as  well  as  other  hard- 
ships, all  contrary  to  the  temperate  life,  and  in  themselves 
disorders.  Yet,  I  repeat  the  assertion  I  have  already 
made,  that  these  disorders  are  not  of  any  great  conse- 
quence, and  are  powerless  to  cause  grievous  sickness  or 
death,  provided  he  who  is  obliged  to  suffer  them  leads 
an  abstemious  life,  and  is  never  guilty  of  any  excess  in 
eating  or  drinking.  Excess  is  a  thing  which  any  man, 
even  one  who  is  in  the  service  of  the  State,  can  very 
well  avoid,  and  must,  indeed,  necessarily  avoid;  since  by 
so  doing  he  may  rest  assured,  either  that  he  will  never 
incur  those  ills  into  which  it  would  otherwise  be  easy 
for  him  to  fall  while  committing  disorders  which  are 
brought  upon  him  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties,  or 
♦  See  Note  H 

60 


LUIGI  CORNARO^S  TREATISE 

that  he  will  be  able  the  more  easily  and  quickly  to  free 
himself  of  those  ills,  should  he,  perchance,  be  overtaken 
by  them. 

Here  one  might  object  —  as  some  actually  do  —  that  a 
man  accustomed  to  lead  the  temperate  life,  having  always, 
while  in  sound  health,  partaken  of  food  proper  for  sick 
persons,  and  in  small  quantities  only,  has  nothing  left 
to  fall  back  upon  in  time  of  sickness. 

To  this  objection  I  shall  answer,  in  the  first  place, 
that  Nature,  being  desirous  to  preserve  man  as  long  as 
possible,  teaches  him  what  rule  to  follow  in  time  of  ill- 
ness ;  for  she  immediately  deprives  the  sick  of  their  appe- 
tite in  order  that  they  may  eat  but  little  —  for  with 
little,  as  it  has  already  been  said.  Nature  is  content. 
Consequently,  whether  the  sick  man,  up  to  the  time  of 
his  illness,  has  led  the  orderly  or  disorderly  life,  it  is 
necessary  that  he  should  then  partake  of  such  food  only 
as  is  suited  to  his  condition,  and,  in  quantity,  less  of  it 
than  he  was  wont  to  take  when  in  health.  Should  he, 
when  ill,  continue  to  eat  the  same  amount  as  when  in 
health,  he  would  surely  die;  while,  were  he  to  eat  more, 
he  would  die  all  the  sooner.  For  his  natural  powers, 
already  oppressed  with  sickness,  would  thereby  be  bur- 
dened beyond  endurance,  having  had  forced  upon  them  a 
quantity  of  food  greater  than  they  could  support  under 
the  circumstances.  A  reduced  quantity  is,  in  my  opinion, 
all  that  is  required  to  sustain  the  invalid. 

Another  answer  to  this  objection  —  and  a  better 
one  —  is,  that  he  who  leads  the  temperate  life  can  never 
fall  sick,  or  at  least  can  do  so  only  rarely;  and  his 
indisposition  lasts  but  a  very  short  while.  For,  by 
living  temperately,  he  removes  all  the  causes  of  illness; 
and,  having  removed  these,  he  thereby  removes  the 
effects.    So  the  man  who  lives  the  orderly  life  should 

61 


THE  ART   OF   LIVING   LONG 

have  no  fear  of  sickness;  for  surely  he  has  no  reason 
to  fear  an  effect,  the  cause  of  which  is  under  his  own 
control. 

Now,  since  the  orderly  life  is,  as  we  have  seen,  so 
useful,  so  potent,  so  beautiful,  and  so  holy,  it  should  be 
embraced  and  followed  by  every  rational  being;  and  this 
all  the  more  from  the  fact  that  it  is  a  life  very  easy  to 
lead,  and  one  that  does  not  conflict  with  the  career  of 
any  condition  of  man. 

No  one  need  feel  obliged  to  confine  himself  to  the 
small  quantity  to  which  I  limit  myself;  nor  to  abstain 
from  fruit,  fish,  and  other  things  which  I  do  not  take. 
For  I  eat  but  little ;  and,  my  reason  in  doing  so  is  that 
I  find  a  little  suflflcient  for  my  small  and  weak  stomach. 
Moreover,  as  fruit,  fish,  and  similar  foods  disagree  with 
me,  I  do  not  use  them.  Persons,  however,  with  whom 
these  do  agree  may  —  nay,  should  —  partake  of  them ;  for 
to  such  they  are  by  no  means  forbidden.  That  which 
is  forbidden  to  them  and  to  everybody  else,  is  to  partake 
of  food,  even  though  it  be  of  the  kind  suited  to  them,  in 
a  quantity  so  large  that  it  cannot  be  easily  digested ;  and 
the  same  is  true  with  regard  to  drink.  But  should  there 
be  a  man  to  whom  no  kind  of  food  is  harmful,  he,  obviously, 
would  not  be  subject  to  the  rule  of  quality,  but  must 
needs  regard  only  that  of  quantity  —  an  observance  which 
becomes  a  very  easy  matter. 

I  do  not  wish  to  be  told  here  that  among  those  who 
lead  the  most  irregular  lives  there  are  men,  who,  in  spite 
of  this  fact,  reach,  healthy  and  robust,  those  furthest 
limits  of  life  attained  by  the  temperate;  for  this  argu- 
ment is  grounded  upon  a  position  uncertain  and  danger- 
ous, and  upon  a  fact,  moreover,  which  is  of  so  rare 
occurrence  that,  when  it  does  occur,  it  appears  more  a 
miracle  than  a  natural  result.     Hence  it  should  not  per- 

62 


tUIGI  CX)ENARO^S  TREATISE 

suade  us  to  live  disorderly  lives;  for  Nature  was  merely 
unwontedly  liberal  to  those  irregular  livers,  and  very 
few  of  us  can,  or  should,  hope  that  she  will  be  as  bounti- 
ful to  us. 

He  who,  trusting  to  his  youth  or  his  strong  constitu- 
tion and  perfect  stomach,  will  not  take  proper  care  of 
himself,  loses  a  great  deal,  and  every  day  is  exposed,  in 
consequence  of  his  intemperate  life,  to  sickness  and  even 
death.  For  this  reason  I  maintain  that  an  old  man  who 
lives  regularly  and  temperately,  even  though  he  be  of 
poor  constitution,  is  more  likely  to  live  than  is  a  young 
man  of  perfect  health  if  addicted  to  disorderly  habits. 

There  is  no  doubt,  of  course,  that  a  man  blessed 
with  a  strong  constitution  will  be  able  to  preserve  him- 
self longer  by  living  the  temperate  life  than  he  who  has 
a  poor  one;  and  it  is  also  true  that  God  and  Nature  can 
cause  men  to  be  brought  into  the  world  with  so  perfect 
constitutions  that  they  will  live  for  many  years  in  health, 
without  observing  this  strict  rule  of  life.  A  case  of 
this  kind  is  that  of  the  Procurator*  Thomas  Contarini 
of  Venice  [1454-1554],  and  another  is  that  of  the  Knight 
Anthony  Capodivacca  of  Padua  [14657-1555].  But  such 
instances  are  so  rare  that,  it  is  safe  to  say,  there  is  not 
more  than  one  man  in  a  hundred  thousand  of  whom  it 
will  prove  true. 

The  universal  rule  is  that  they  who  wish  not  only 
constantly  to  enjoy  perfect  health  and  to  attain  their 
full  limit  of  life,  but  finally  to  pass  away  without  pain 
or  difficulty  and  of  mere  exhaustion  of  the  radical 
moisture,  must  lead  the  temperate  life;  for  upon  this 
condition,  and  no  other,  will  they  enjoy  the  fruits  of 
such  a  life  —  fruits  almost  innumerable,  and  each  one  to 
be  infinitely  prized.  Fop  as  sobriety  keeps  the  humors 
of  the  body  pure  and  mild,  so,  likewise,  does  it  prevent 

*  See  Note  I 

63 


THE  AET  OP   LIVING  LONG 

fumes  from  arising  from  the  stomach  to  the  head;  and 
the  brain  of  him  who  lives  in  this  manner  is,  as  a  result, 
constantly  in  a  clear  condition,  permitting  him  to  main- 
tain entire  the  use  of  reason.  Thus,  to  his  own  extreme 
comfort  and  contentment,  is  he  enabled  to  rise  above 
the  low  and  mean  considerations  of  this  world  to  the 
high  and  beautiful  contemplation  of  things  divine.  In 
this  manner  he  considers,  knows,  and  understands,  as  he 
never  would  have  otherwise  done,  how  great  are  the 
power,  the  wisdom,  and  the  goodness  of  God.  Descend- 
ing thence  to  the  realms  of  Nature,  he  recognizes  in  her 
the  daughter  of  the  same  God;  and  he  sees  and  touches 
that  which  at  any  other  age  of  his  life,  or  with  a  less 
purified  mind,  he  could  never  have  seen  or  touched. 

Then,  indeed,  does  he  fully  realize  the  ugliness  of 
vice,  into  which  those  persons  fall  who  have  not  learned 
to  control  their  passions  or  to  bridle  those  three  importu- 
nate desires  which  seem,  all  three  together,  to  be  born 
with  us  in  order  to  keep  us  forever  troubled  and  dis- 
turbed—  the  desires  of  carnal  pleasures,  of  honors,  and 
of  worldly  possessions.  These  lusts  appear  to  increase 
with  age  in  those  who  are  not  followers  of  the  temperate 
life;  because,  when  passing  through  the  years  of  earlier 
manhood,  they  did  not  relinquish,  as  they  should  have 
done,  either  sensuality  or  appetite,  to  embrace  in  their 
stead  reason  and  self-control  —  virtues  which  followers  of 
the  temperate  life  never  abandoned  in  their  years  of 
strength. 

On  the  contrary,  these  more  fortunate  men,  well 
knowing  that  such  passions  and  desires  are  irrational, 
and  having  given  themselves  wholly  to  reason,  were  freed 
both  of  their  tyranny  and  at  the  same  time  of  all  other 
vices,  and  drawn,  instead,  to  virtue  and  good  works. 
By  this  means,  from  the  vicious  men  they  had  once  been, 

64 


LUIGI   COENARO'S   TREATISE 

they  became  true  and  upright.  At  length,  in  process  of 
time  and  owing  to  extreme  age,  their  dissolution  and 
close  of  life  are  near  at  hand.  Yet,  conscious  that  they 
have,  through  God's  special  grace,  abandoned  the  ways 
of  vice  and  ever  afterward  followed  those  of  virtue, 
and  firmly  hoping,  moreover,  through  the  merits  of 
Jesus  Christ  our  Redeemer,  to  die  in  His  grace,  they 
are  not  saddened  by  the  thought  of  the  approach  of 
death,  which  they  know  to  be  unavoidable. 

This  is  especially  the  case  when,  loaded  with 
honors  and  satiated  with  life,  they  perceive  they  have 
reached  that  age  which  scarcely  any  man  —  among  the 
many  thousands  born  into  this  world  —  who  follows  a 
different  mode  of  living,  ever  attains.  And  the  inevi- 
table approach  of  death  grieves  them  so  much  the  less 
in  that  it  does  not  come  suddenly  or  unexpectedly,  with 
a  troublesome  and  bitter  alteration  of  the  humors,  and 
with  sharp  pains  and  cruel  fever;  but  it  comes  most 
quietly  and  mildly.  For,  in  them,  the  end  is  caused 
merely  by  the  failure  of  the  radical  moisture;  which, 
consumed  by  degrees,  finally  becomes  completely  exhaust- 
ed, after  the  manner  of  a  lamp  which  gradually  fails. 
Hence  they  pass  away  peacefully,  and  without  any  kind  of 
sickness,  from  this  earthly  and  mortal  life  to  the  heavenly 
and  eternal  one. 

O  holy  and  truly  happy  Temperate  Life,  most 
worthy  to  be  looked  upon  as  such  by  all  men!  even  as 
the  other,  disorderly  and  so  contrary  to  thee,  is  sinful 
and  wretched  —  as  those  who  will  but  stop  to  reflect  upon 
the  opposite  effects  of  both  must  clearly  see.  Thy 
lovely  name  alone  should  be  sufficient  to  bring  men  to 
a  knowledge  of  thee;  for  thy  name.  The  Orderly  and 
Temperate  Life,  is  beautiful  to  speak;  while  how 
offensive    are    the    words    disorder    and    intemperance! 

65 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING  LONG 

Indeed,  between  the  very  mention  of  these  two  opposites 
lies  the  same  difference  as  between  those  other  two,  angel 
and  devil. 

I  have  so  far  given  the  reasons  for  which  I  aban- 
doned disorder  and  devoted  myself  wholly  to  the  tem- 
perate life;  also  the  manner  in  which  I  went  about  it 
that  I  might  accomplish  my  end;  together  with  the  sub- 
sequent effects  of  this  change ;  and,  finally,  I  have  attempt- 
ed to  describe  the  advantages  and  blessings  which  the 
temperate  life  bestows  on  those  who  follow  it. 

And  now,  since  some  sensual  and  unreasonable  men 
pretend  that  long  life  is  not  a  blessing  or  a  thing  to  be 
desired,  but  that  the  existence  of  a  man  after  he  has 
passed  the  age  of  sixty-five  cannot  any  longer  be  called 
a  living  life,  but  rather  should  be  termed  a  dead  one,  I 
shall  plainly  show  they  are  much  mistaken;  for  I  have 
an  ardent  desire  that  every  man  should  strive  to  attain 
my  age,  in  order  that  he  may  enjoy  what  I  have  found  — 
and  what  others,  too,  will  find  —  to  be  the  most  beautiful 
period  of  life. 

For  this  purpose  I  wish  to  speak  here  of  the  pas- 
times and  pleasures  which  I  enjoy  at  this  advanced  sea- 
son of  life.  I  desire,  in  this  manner,  openly  to  bear  wit- 
ness to  all  mankind  —  and  every  person  who  knows  me 
will  testify  to  the  truth  of  what  I  say  —  that  the  life  which 
I  am  now  living  is  a  most  vital  one,  and  by  no  means  a 
dead  one;  and  that  it  is  deemed,  by  many,  a  life  as  full 
of  happiness  as  this  world  can  give. 

Those  who  know  me  well  will  give  this  testimony, 
in  the  first  place,  because  they  see,  and  not  without  the 
greatest  admiration  and  amazement,  how  strong  I  am; 
that  I  am  able  to  mount  my  horse  without  assistance; 
and  with  what  ease  and  agility  I  can  not  only  ascend  a 
flight  of  stairs,   but  also   climb  a  whole  hill  on   foot. 

66 


LUIGI  CORNARO^S   TREATISE 

They  also  see  how  I  am  ever  cheerful,  happy,  and  con- 
tented —  free  from  all  perturbations  of  the  soul  and  from 
every  vexatious  thought;  instead  of  these,  joy  and  peace 
have  fixed  their  abode  in  my  heart,  and  never  depart 
from  it.  Moreover,  my  friends  know  how  I  spend  my 
time,  and  that  it  is  always  in  such  a  manner  that  life 
does  not  grow  tedious  to  me;  they  see  that  there  is  no 
single  hour  of  it  that  I  am  not  able  to  pass  with  the 
greatest  possible  delight  and  pleasure. 

Frequently  I  have  the  opportunity  to  converse  with 
many  honorable  gentlemen;  among  them,  a  number  who 
are  renowned  for  their  intellect  and  refinement,  and  dis- 
tinguished by  their  literary  attainments,  or  are  of  excel- 
lence in  some  other  way.  When  their  conversation  fails 
me,  I  enjoy  the  time  in  reading  some  good  book.  Hav- 
ing read  as  much  as  I  care  to,  I  write;  endeavoring  in 
this,  as  in  what  other  manner  soever  I  may,  to  be  of 
assistance  to  others,  as  far  as  is  in  my  power. 

All  these  things  I  do  with  the  greatest  ease  and  at 
my  leisure,  at  their  proper  seasons,  in  my  own  residence ; 
which,  besides  being  situated  in  the  most  beautiful  quar- 
ter of  this  noble  and  learned  city  of  Padua,  is,  in  itself, 
really  handsome  and  worthy  of  praise  —  truly  a  home, 
the  like  of  which  is  no  longer  built  in  our  day.  It  is  so 
arranged  that  in  one  part  of  it  I  am  protected  against 
the  great  heat  of  summer,  and  in  the  other  part  against 
the  extreme  cold  of  winter;  for  I  built  the  house  accord- 
ing to  the  principles  of  architecture,  which  teach  us  how 
that  should  be  done.  In  addition  to  the  mansion,  I  en- 
joy my  various  gardens,  beautified  by  running  streams  — 
retreats  wherein  I  always  find  some  pleasant  occupation 
for  my  time. 

I  have,  besides  this,  another  mode  of  recreating 
myself.     Every  year,  in  April  and  May,  as  well  as  in 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

September  and  October,  I  spend  a  few  days  at  a  country- 
seat  of  mine,  situated  in  the  most  desirable  part  of  the 
Euganean  Hills.*  It  is  adorned  with  beautiful  gardens 
and  fountains;  and  I  especially  delight  in  its  extremely 
comfortable  and  fine  dwelling.  In  this  spot  I  also  take 
part,  at  times,  in  some  easy  and  pleasant  hunting,  such 
as  is  suited  to  my  age. 

For  as  many  days  again,  I  enjoy  my  villa  in  the 
plain.  It  is  very  beautiful,  both  on  account  of  its  fine 
streets  converging  into  a  large  and  handsome  square, — 
in  the  center  of  which  stands  the  church,  a  structure  well 
befitting  the  place  and  much  honored,  —  as  also  because 
it  is  divided  by  a  large  and  rapid  branch  of  the  river 
Brenta,  on  either  side  of  which  spread  large  tracts  of 
land,  all  laid  out  in  fertile  and  carefully  cultivated  fields. 
This  district  is  now  —  God  be  praised !  —  exceedingly  well 
populated;  for  it  is,  indeed,  a  very  different  place  from 
what  it  was  formerly,  having  once  been  marshy  and  of 
unwholesome  atmosphere  —  a  home  fit  rather  for  snakes 
than  for  human  beings.  But,  after  I  had  drained  off 
the  waters,  the  air  became  healthful  and  people  flocked 
thither  from  every  direction;  the  number  of  the  inhabit- 
ants began  to  multiply  exceedingly;  and  the  country  was 
brought  to  the  perfect  condition  in  which  it  is  to-day. 
Hence  I  can  say,  with  truth,  that  in  this  place  I  have 
given  to  God  an  altar,  a  temple,  and  souls  to  adore  Him. 
All  these  are  things  which  afford  me  infinite  pleasure, 
solace,  and  contentment  every  time  I  return  thither  to 
see  and  enjoy  them. 

At  those  same  times  every  year,  I  go,  as  well,  to 
revisit  some  of  the  neighboring  cities,  in  order  that  I 
may  enjoy  the  society  of  those  of  my  friends  whom  I 
find  there;  for  I  derive  great  pleasure  from  conversing 
with  them.     I  meet,  in  their  company,  men  distinguished 

*  See  Note  J 

68 


LUIGI  CORNARO^S   TREATISE 

for  their  intellect  —  architects,  painters,  sculptors,  musi- 
cians, and  agriculturists;  for  our  times  have  certainly 
produced  a  considerable  number  of  these.  I  behold,  for 
the  first  time,  their  more  recent  works,  and  see  again 
their  former  ones;  and  I  always  learn  things  which  it 
is  agreeable  and  pleasing  to  me  to  know.  I  see  the  palaces, 
the  gardens,  the  antiquities,  and,  together  with  these,  the 
squares,  the  churches,  and  the  fortresses;  for  I  endeavor 
to  omit  nothing  from  which  I  can  derive  either  delight 
or  information. 

My  greatest  enjoyment,  in  the  course  of  my  journeys 
going  and  returning,  is  the  contemplation  of  the  beauty 
of  the  country  and  of  the  places  through  which  I  travel. 
Some  of  these  are  in  the  plains ;  others  on  the  hills,  near 
rivers  or  fountains;  and  all  are  made  still  more  beauti- 
ful by  the  presence  of  many  charming  dwellings  sur- 
rounded by  delightful  gardens. 

Nor  are  these  my  diversions  and  pleasures  rendered 
less  sweet  and  less  precious  through  the  failing  of  my 
sight  or  my  hearing,  or  because  any  one  of  my  senses  is 
not  perfect ;  for  they  are  all  —  thank  God !  —  most  perfect. 
This  is  true  especially  of  my  sense  of  taste;  for  I  now 
find  more  true  relish  in  the  simple  food  I  eat,  whereso- 
ever I  may  chance  to  be,  than  I  formerly  found  in  the 
most  delicate  dishes  at  the  time  of  my  intemperate  life. 
Neither  does  the  change  of  bed  affect  me  in  the  slightest 
degree;  for  I  always  sleep  soundly  and  quietly  in  what 
place  soever  I  may  happen  to  be  —  nothing  disturbs  me, 
so  that  my  dreams  are  always  happy  and  pleasant. 

With  the  greatest  delight  and  satisfaction,  also,  do 
I  behold  the  success  of  an  undertaking  highly  important 
to  our  State;  namely,  the  fitting  for  cultivation  of  its 
waste  tracts  of  country,  numerous  as  they  were.  This 
improvement  was  commenced  at  my  suggestion;  yet  I 

69 


THE  ART   OP   LIVING  LONG 

had  scarcely  ventured  to  hope  that  I  should  live  to  see 
it,  knowing,  as  I  do,  that  republics  are  slow  to  begin 
enterprises  of  great  importance.  Nevertheless,  I  have 
lived  to  see  it.  And  I  was  myself  present  with  the 
members  of  the  committee  appointed  to  superintend  the 
work,  for  two  whole  months,  at  the  season  of  the  greatest 
heat  of  summer,  in  those  swampy  places;  nor  was  I  ever 
disturbed  either  by  fatigue  or  by  any  hardship  I  was 
obliged  to  incur.  So  great  is  the  power  of  the  orderly 
life  which  accompanies  me  wheresoever  I  may  go! 

Furthermore,  I  cherish  a  firm  hope  that  I  shall  live 
to  witness  not  only  the  beginning,  but  also  the  comple- 
tion, of  another  enterprise,  the  success  of  which  is  no 
less  important  to  our  beloved  Venice;  namely,  the  pro- 
tection of  our  estuary,  or  lagoon,  that  strongest  and  most 
wonderful  bulwark  of  my  dear  country.  The  preservation 
of  this  —  and  be  it  said  not  through  self-complacency, 
but  wholly  and  purely  for  truth's  sake  —  has  been  advised 
by  me  repeatedly,  both  by  word  of  mouth  and  by  care- 
fully written  reports  to  our  Kepublic ;  for  as  I  owe  to  her, 
by  right,  the  fullest  means  of  assistance  and  benefit  that 
I  can  give,  so  also  do  I  most  fondly  desire  to  see  her  enjoy 
prolonged  and  enduring  happiness,  and  to  know  that  her 
security  is  assured. 

These  are  the  true  and  important  recreations,  these 
the  comforts  and  pastimes,  of  my  old  age,  which  is  much 
more  to  be  prized  than  the  old  age  or  even  the  youth  of 
other  men;  since  it  is  free,  by  the  grace  of  God,  from  all 
the  perturbations  of  the  soul  and  the  infirmities  of  the 
body,  and  is  not  subject  to  any  of  those  troubles  which 
woefully  torment  so  many  young  men  and  so  many  languid 
and  utterly  worn-out  old  men. 

If  to  great  and  momentous  things   it   be   proper   to 

70 


LUIGI  CORNARO'S   TREATISE 

compare  lesser  ones,  or  rather  those,  I  should  say,  which 
are  by  many  considered  as  hardly  worthy  of  notice,  I 
shall  mention,  as  another  fruit  which  I  have  gathered 
from  the  temperate  life,  that  at  my  present  age  of  eighty- 
three  I  have  been  able  to  compose  a  delightful  comedy, 
full  of  innocent  mirth  and  pleasant  sayings  —  a  manner  of 
poem,  which,  as  we  all  know,  is  usually  the  fruit  and 
production  of  youth  only,  just  as  tragedy  is  the  work  of 
old  age;  the  former,  because  of  its  grace  and  joyousness, 
is  more  in  harmony  with  the  early  years  of  life,  while  the 
melancholy  character  of  the  latter  is  better  suited  to  old 
age.  Now,  if  that  good  old  man,  a  Greek  and  a  poet 
[Sophocles],  was  so  highly  commended  for  having  written 
a  tragedy  at  the  age  of  seventy-three,  and  was,  by  reason 
of  this  deed,  regarded  as  vigorous  and  sound  minded, — 
although  tragedy,  as  I  have  just  said,  is  a  sad  and 
melancholy  form  of  poetry,  —  why  should  I  be  deemed 
less  fortunate  or  less  hale  than  he,  when  I  have,  at  an  age 
greater  than  his  by  ten  years,  written  a  comedy,  which,  as 
everybody  knows,  is  a  cheerful  and  witty  kind  of  com- 
position? Assuredly,  if  I  am  not  an  unfair  judge  of  my- 
self, I  must  believe  that  I  am  now  more  vigorous  and 
more  cheerful  than  was  that  poet  when  burdened  with  ten 
years  less  of  life. 

In  order  that  nothing  be  wanting  to  the  fullness  of 
my  consolation,  to  render  my  great  age  less  irksome,  or  to 
increase  my  happiness,  I  am  given  the  additional  comfort 
of  a  species  of  immortality  in  the  succession  of  my 
descendants.  For,  as  often  as  I  return  home,  I  find 
awaiting  me  not  one  or  two,  but  eleven,  grandchildren,  all 
the  offspring  of  one  father  and  mother,  and  all  blessed 
with  perfect  health;  the  eldest  is  eighteen  years  of  age, 
the  youngest,  two;  and,  as  far  as  can  now  be  judged,  all 
are  fond  of  study  and  inclined  to  good  habits.    Among 

71 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

the  younger  ones,  I  always  enjoy  some  one  as  my  little 
jester;  for,  truly,  between  the  ages  of  three  and  five,  the 
little  folks  are  natural  merrymakers.  The  older  children 
I  look  upon  as,  in  a  certain  way,  my  companions ;  and,  as 
Nature  has  blessed  them  with  perfect  voices,  I  am  de- 
lighted with  their  singing,  and  with  their  playing  on  vari- 
ous instruments.  Indeed,  I  often  join  in  their  singing;  for 
my  voice  is  now  better,  clearer,  and  more  sonorous  than 
it  ever  was  before. 

Such,  then,  are  the  pastimes  of  my  old  age ;  and  from 
these  it  may  readily  be  seen  that  the  life  I  am  leading  is 
alive  and  not  dead,  as  those  persons  say  who  are  ignorant 
of  what  they  are  speaking.  To  whom,  in  order  that  I  may 
make  it  clearly  understood  how  I  regard  other  people's 
manner  of  living,  I  truly  declare  that  I  would  not  be 
willing  to  exchange  either  my  life  or  my  great  age  with 
that  of  any  young  man,  though  he  be  of  excellent  consti- 
tution, who  leads  a  sensual  life ;  for  I  well  know  that  such 
a  one  is,  as  I  have  already  stated,  exposed  every  day  — 
nay,  every  hour  —  to  a  thousand  kinds  of  infirmity  and 
death. 

This  is  a  fact  so  obviously  clear  that  it  has  no  need  of 
proof;  for  I  remember  right  well  what  I  used  to  do  when 
I  was  like  them.  I  know  how  very  thoughtless  that  age 
is  wont  to  be,  and  how  young  men,  incited  by  their  inward 
fire,  are  inclined  to  be  daring  and  confident  of  themselves 
in  their  actions,  and  how  hopeful  they  are  in  every 
circumstance;  as  much  on  account  of  the  little  experience 
they  have  of  things  past,  as  because  of  the  certainty  they 
feel  of  living  long  in  the  future.  Thus  it  is  that  they 
boldy  expose  themselves  to  every  kind  of  peril.  Putting 
aside  reason,  and  giving  up  the  ruling  of  themselves  to 
sensuality,  they  seek  with  eagerness  for  means  by  which 
to  gratify  every  one  of  their  appetites,  without  perceiving 
—  unfortunate  wretches!  —  that  they  are  bringing  upon 

72 


LUIGI   CORNAKO^S   TREATISE 

'themselves  the  very  things  which  are  most  unwelcome: 
not  only  sickness,  as  I  have  said  many  times,  but  also 
death. 

Of  these  evils,  sickness  is  grievous  and  troublesome 
to  suffer;  and  the  other,  which  is  death,  is  altogether 
unbearable  and  frightful  —  certainly  to  any  man  who  has 
given  himself  up  a  prey  to  sensuality,  and  especially  to 
young  people,  to  whom  it  seems  that  they  lose  too  much  in 
dying  before  their  time.  And  it  is  indeed  frightful  to 
those  who  reflect  upon  the  errors  with  which  this  mortal 
life  of  ours  is  filled,  and  upon  the  vengeance  which  the 
justice  of  God  is  liable  to  take  in  the  eternal  punishment 
of  the  wicked. 

I,  on  the  contrary,  old  as  I  am,  find  myself  —  thanks 
always  to  Almighty  God !  —  entirely  free  of  both  the  one 
and  the  other  of  these  two  cares:  of  the  one,  sickness, 
because  I  know  to  a  certainty  I  cannot  ever  fall  sick,  the 
holy  medicine  of  the  temperate  life  having  removed  from 
me  forever  all  the  causes  of  illness;  and  of  the  other, 
namely,  of  death,  because  I  have  learned,  through  a  prac- 
tice of  many  years,  to  give  full  play  to  reason.  Where- 
fore I  not  only  deem  it  wrong  to  fear  that  which  cannot 
be  avoided,  but  I  also  firmly  hope  that,  when  the  hour 
of  my  passing  away  is  come,  I  shall  feel  the  consoling 
power  of  the  grace  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Moreover,  although  I  am  fully  aware  that  I,  like 
everybody  else,  must  come  to  that  end  which  is  inevitable, 
yet  it  is  still  so  far  away  that  I  cannot  discern  it.  For 
I  am  certain  there  is  no  death  in  store  for  me  save  that 
of  mere  dissolution;  since  the  regular  method  of  my  life 
has  closed  all  other  avenues  to  the  approach  of  death,  and 
has  prevented  the  humors  of  my  body  from  waging  against 
me  any  other  war  than  that  arising  from  the  elements  of 
which  my  body  was  originally  formed. 

73 


THE  AET  OF  LIVING   LONG 

I  am  not  so  unwise  as  not  to  know  that,  having  been 
born,  I  must  die.  Yet  beautiful  and  desirable,  indeed,  is 
that  death  which  Nature  provides  for  us  by  way  of  the 
dissolution  of  the  elements;  both  because  she  herself, 
having  formed  the  bond  of  life,  finds  more  easily  the  way 
to  loose  it,  and  also  because  she  delays  the  end  longer 
than  would  the  violence  of  disease.  Such  is  the  death, 
which,  without  playing  the  poet,  alone  deserves  the  name 
of  death,  as  arising  from  Nature's  laws.  It  cannot  be 
otherwise ;  for  it  comes  only  after  a  very  long  span  of  life, 
and  then  solely  as  the  result  of  extreme  weakness.  Little 
by  little,  very  slowly,  men  are  reduced  to  such  a  state  that 
they  find  themselves  no  longer  able  to  walk,  and  scarcely 
to  reason;  moreover,  they  become  blind,  deaf,  and  bent, 
and  afflicted  with  every  other  kind  of  infirmity.  But,  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  feel  certain  that  not  only  will  my 
end,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  be  very  different,  but  also  that 
my  soul,  which  has  so  agreeable  a  habitation  in  my  body, 
—  where  it  finds  nothing  but  peace,  love,  and  harmony,  not 
only  between  the  humors,  but  also  between  the  senses  and 
reason,  —  rejoices  and  abides  in  it  in  a  state  of  such  com- 
plete contentment,  that  it  is  only  reasonable  to  believe  it 
will  require  much  time  and  the  weight  of  many  years 
to  force  it  to  leave.  Wherefore  I  may  fairly  conclude 
there  is  yet  in  store  for  me  a  long  continuance  of  perfect 
health  and  strength,  wherein  I  may  enjoy  this  beautiful 
world,  which  is  indeed  beautiful  to  those  who  know  how 
to  make  it  so  for  themselves,  as  I  have  done.  And  I 
treasure  the  hope  that,  through  the  grace  of  God,  I  shall 
also  be  able  to  enjoy  the  other  world  beyond.  All  this  is 
Bolely  by  means  of  virtue,  and  of  the  holy  life  of  order 
which  I  adopted  when  I  became  the  friend  of  reason  and 
the  enemy  of  sensuality  and  appetite  —  an  adoption  which 
may  easily  be  made  by  any  man  who  wishes  to  live  as 
becomes  a  man. 

74 


LUIGI   CORNARO^S   TREATISE 

Now,  if  the  temperate  life  is  such  a  happy  one,  if  its 
name  is  so  beautiful  and  lovable,  if  the  possession  of  it 
is  so  certain  and  so  secure,  there  is  nothing  left  for  me  to 
do  except  to  entreat — since  by  oratorical  persuasion  I 
cannot  attain  my  desire  —  every  man  endowed  with  gentle 
soul  and  gifted  with  rational  faculties,  to  embrace  this  the 
richest  treasure  of  life;  for  as  it  surpasses  all  the  other 
riches  and  treasures  of  this  world  by  giving  us  a  long  and 
healthy  life,  so  it  deserves  to  be  loved,  sought  after,  and 
preserved  always  by  all. 

Divine  Sobriety,  pleasing  to  God,  the  friend  of  nature, 
the  daughter  of  reason,  the  sister  of  virtue,  the  companion 
of  temperate  living;  modest,  agreeable,  contented  with 
little,  orderly  and  refined  in  all  her  operations!  From 
her,  as  from  a  root,  spring  life,  health,  cheerfulness,  in- 
dustry, studiousness,  and  all  those  actions  which  are 
worthy  of  a  true  and  noble  soul.  All  laws,  both  divine 
and  human,  favor  her.  From  her  presence  flee  —  as  so 
many  clouds  from  the  sunshine  —  reveling,  disorders,  glut- 
tony, excessive  humors,  indispositions,  fevers,  pains,  and 
the  dangers  of  death.  Her  beauty  attracts  every  noble 
mind.  Her  security  promises  to  all  her  followers  a  grace- 
ful and  enduring  life.  Her  happiness  invites  each  one, 
with  but  little  trouble,  to  the  acquisition  of  her  victories. 
And,  finally,  she  pledges  herself  to  be  a  kind  and  benevo- 
lent guardian  of  the  life  of  every  human  being  —  of  the 
rich  as  well  as  of  the  poor;  of  man  as  of  woman;  of  the 
old  as  of  the  young.  To  the  rich  she  teaches  modesty, 
to  the  poor  thrift ;  to  man  continence,  to  woman  chastity ; 
to  the  old  how  to  guard  against  death,  and  to  the  young 
how  to  hope  more  firmly  and  more  securely  for  length  of 
days.  Sobriety  purifies  the  senses;  lightens  the  body; 
quickens  the  intellect ;  cheers  the  mind ;  makes  the  memory 
tenacious,  the  motions  swift,  the  actions  ready  and  prompt. 
Through  her,  the  soul,  almost  delivered  of  its  earthly 

75 


THE  ABT  OF  LIVING  LONG 

burden,  enjoys  to  a  great  extent  its  liberty;  the  vital 
spirits  move  softly  in  the  arteries;  the  blood  courses 
through  the  veins ;  the  heat  of  the  body,  always  mild  and 
temperate,  produces  mild  and  temperate  effects;  and, 
finally,  all  our  faculties  preserve,  with  most  beautiful 
order,  a  joyous  and  pleasing  harmony. 

O  most  holy  and  most  innocent  Sobriety,  the  sole 
refreshment  of  nature,  the  loving  mother  of  human  life, 
the  true  medicine  both  of  the  soul  and  of  the  body;  how 
much  should  men  praise  and  thank  thee  for  thy  courteous 
gifts!  Thou  givest  them  the  means  of  preserving  life  in 
health,  that  blessing  than  which  it  did  not  please  God  we 
should  have  a  greater  in  this  world  —  life  and  existence, 
so  naturally  prized,  so  willingly  guarded  by  every  living 
creature ! 

As  it  is  not  my  intention  to  make,  at  this  time,  a 
panegyric  on  this  rare  and  excellent  virtue,  and  in  order 
that  I  may  be  moderate,  even  in  its  regard,  I  shall  bring 
this  treatise  to  a  close ;  not  that  infinitely  more  might  not 
yet  be  said  in  its  behalf  than  I  have  said  already,  but 
because  it  is  my  wish  to  postpone  the  remainder  of  its 
praises  to  another  occasion. 


76 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE 


WRITTEN  AT  THE  AGE  OF  EIGHTY-SIX 


Wherein  the  author  further  dwells  upon  the  vital  necessity  of 

temperate  and  regular  habits  of  life  as  the  only  means 

of  securing  or  preserving  perfect  health 


MY  treatise,  "La  Vita  Sohria"  has  begun,  as  I  de- 
sired it  should,  to  render  great  service  to  many  of 
those  persons  born  with  weak  constitutions,  who, 
for  this  reason,  feel  so  very  sick  whenever  they  commit 
the  slightest  excess,  that  they  could  not  possibly  feel  worse 
—  a  thing,  which,  it  must  be  allowed,  does  not  happen  to 
those  who  are  born  with  robust  constitutions.  A  number 
of  these  delicate  persons,  having  read  the  above-mentioned 
treatise,  have  commenced  to  follow  the  regular  mode  of 
life  therein  recommended  by  me,  convinced  by  experience 
of  its  beneficial  influence. 

And  now,  in  like  manner,  I  desire  to  benefit  those 
fortunately  born  with  strong  constitutions,  who,  relying 
too  much  upon  that  fact,  lead  irregular  lives;  in  conse- 

77 


THB  AET  OF  LIVING  LONG 

quence  of  which,  by  the  time  they  reach  the  age  of  sixty 
or  thereabout,  they  become  afflicted  with  various  distress- 
ing ills.  Some  suffer  with  the  gout,  some  with  pains  in  the 
side,  and  others  with  pains  in  the  stomach  or  with  other 
complaints;  yet  with  none  of  these  would  they  ever  be 
troubled  were  they  to  lead  the  temperate  life.  And,  as 
they  now  die  of  these  infirmities  before  reaching  their 
eightieth  year,  they  would,  in  the  contrary  case,  live  to 
the  age  of  one  hundred,  the  term  of  life  granted  by  God, 
and  by  our  mother  Nature,  to  us  her  children;  for  it  is 
but  reasonable  to  believe  the  wish  of  this  excellent  mother 
is  that  every  one  of  us  should  attain  that  natural  limit, 
in  order  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  every  period  of  life. 

Our  birth  is  subject  to  the  revolutions  of  the  heavens, 
which  have  great  power  over  it,  especially  with  regard  to 
the  formation  of  good  and  bad  constitutions.  This  is  a 
condition  which  Nature  cannot  alter ;  for,  if  she  could,  she 
would  provide  that  all  be  born  with  robust  constitutions. 
She  hopes,  however,  that  man,  being  gifted  with  intellect 
and  reason,  will  himself  supply  by  art  that  which  the 
heavens  have  denied  him;  and  that,  by  means  of  the  tem- 
perate life,  he  may  succeed  in  freeing  himself  of  his  bad 
constitution,  and  be  enabled  to  enjoy  a  long  life  in  the 
possession  of  unvarying  perfect  health.  And  there  is  no 
doubt  that  man  can,  by  means  of  art,  free  himself  partially 
from  the  control  of  the  heavens,  the  common  opinion  being 
that,  while  they  influence,  they  do  not  compel  us.  Hence 
have  we  that  saying  of  the  learned:  "The  tcdse  man  has 
power  over  the  stars/' 

I  was  born  with  a  very  choleric  disposition,  insomuch 
that  it  was  impossible  for  any  person  to  deal  with  me. 
But  I  recognized  the  fact,  and  reflected  that  a  wrathful 
man  is  no  less  than  insane  at  times ;  that  is  to  say,  when 

78 


LUIGI  CORNARO  S  TREATISE 

he  is  under  the  sway  of  his  furious  passions,  he  is  devoid 
of  both  intellect  and  reason.  I  resolved,  through  the 
exercise  of  reason,  to  rid  myself  of  my  passionate  tem- 
per ;  and  I  succeeded  so  well  that  now  —  though,  as  I  have 
said,  I  am  naturally  inclined  to  anger  —  I  never  allow 
myself  to  give  way  to  it,  or,  at  most,  only  in  a  slight 
degree. 

Any  man,  who,  by  nature,  is  of  a  bad  constitution, 
may  similarly,  through  the  use  of  reason  and  the  help  of 
the  temperate  life,  enjoy  perfect  health  to  a  very  great 
age;  just  as  I  have  done,  although  my  constitution  was 
naturally  so  wretched  that  it  seemed  impossible  I  should 
live  beyond  the  age  of  forty.  Whereas,  I  am  now  in  my 
eighty-sixth  year,  full  of  health  and  strength;  and,  were 
it  not  for  the  long  and  severe  illnesses  with  which  I  was 
visited  so  frequently  during  my  youth  and  which  were  so 
serious  that  the  physicians  at  times  despaired  of  saving 
me,  I  should  have  hoped  to  reach  the  above-mentioned 
term  of  a  hundred  years.  But,  through  those  illnesses,  I 
lost  a  large  part  of  my  radical  moisture ;  and,  as  this  loss 
can  never  be  repaired,  reason  teaches  that  it  will  be  im- 
possible for  me  to  reach  the  extreme  term.  Therefore,  as 
I  shall  show  later  on,  I  never  give  the  matter  a  thought. 
It  is  quite  enough  for  me  that  I  have  lived  forty-six  years 
longer  than  I  could  reasonably  have  expected;  and  that, 
at  such  an  advanced  age  as  mine,  all  my  senses  and  organs 
remain  in  perfect  condition  —  even  my  teeth,  my  voice, 
my  memory,  and  my  heart.  And  as  for  my  brain,  it,  espe- 
cially, is  more  active  now  than  it  ever  was.  Nor  do  these 
powers  suffer  any  decline  with  the  increase  of  years  —  a 
blessing  to  be  attributed  solely  to  the  fact  of  my  increas- 
ing the  temperateness  of  my  life. 

For,  as  my  years  multiply,  I  lessen  the  quantity  of 
my  food;  since,  indeed,  this  decrease  is  absolutely  neces- 

79 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING   LONG 

sary  and  cannot  be  avoided.  We  cannot  live  forever; 
and,  as  the  end  of  life  draws  near,  man  is  reduced  by 
degrees  to  that  state  in  which  he  is  no  longer  able  to  eat 
anything  at  all,  save  it  may  be  to  swallow,  and  that  with 
difficulty,  the  yolk  of  an  egg  each  day.  Thus,  as  I  am 
confident  I  shall  do,  he  closes  his  career  by  mere  disso- 
lution of  the  elements  and  without  any  pain  or  illness. 
This,  certainly  a  most  desirable  lot,  is  one  that  will  be 
granted  to  all,  of  what  degree  or  condition  soever,  who 
lead  the  temperate  life,  whether  they  occupy  a  high 
position,  or  that  of  the  middle  class,  or  are  found  in  the 
humblest  ranks  of  life;  for  we  all  belong  to  one  species, 
and  are  composed  of  the  same  four  elements. 

And,  since  a  long  and  healthy  life  is  a  blessing  to  be 
highly  valued  by  man,  as  I  shall  hereafter  explain,  I 
conclude  he  is  in  duty  bound  to  do  all  in  his  power  to 
attain  it.  Nor  should  any  hope  to  enjoy  this  blessing  of 
longevity  without  the  means  of  the  temperate  life,  even 
though  they  may  have  heard  it  said  that  some  who  did 
not  live  temperately,  but,  on  the  contrary,  ate  much  of 
every  kind  of  food  and  drank  large  quantities  of  wine, 
have  lived,  in  the  enjoyment  of  health,  to  see  their 
hundredth  year.  For,  in  holding  out  to  themselves  the 
hope  that  this  good  fortune  will,  in  like  manner,  be  vouch- 
safed to  them  also,  they  make  two  mistakes:  in  the  first 
place,  there  is  scarcely  one  man  in  a  hundred  thousand, 
who,  living  such  a  life,  ever  attains  that  happiness;  and, 
secondly,  the  intemperate  sicken  and  die  in  consequence 
of  their  manner  of  living,  and  can  never  be  sure  of  death 
without  ills  or  infirmity. 

Therefore,  the  only  mode  of  living  that  will  render 
you  secure  in  the  hope  of  long  years  in  health  consists 
in  your  adopting,  at  least  after  the  age  of  forty,  the 
temperate  life.    This  is  not  difficult  to  observe;  since  so 

80 


LUIGI   COBNARO^S   TREATISE 

many  in  the  past,  as  history  informs  us,  have  observed  it; 
and  many,  of  whom  I  am  one,  are  doing  so  at  the  present 
time  —  and  we  are  all  men;  and  man,  being  a  rational 
animal,  does  much  as  he  wills  to  do.  The  orderly  and 
temperate  life  consists  solely  in  the  observance  of  two 
rules  relative  to  the  quality  and  the  quantity  of  our  food. 
The  first,  which  regards  quality,  consists  in  our  eating 
and  drinking  only  such  things  as  agree  with  the  stomach ; 
while  the  latter,  which  relates  to  quantity,  consists  in  our 
using  only  such  an  amount  of  them  as  can  be  easily 
digested.  Every  man,  by  the  time  he  has  reached  the  age 
of  forty,  fifty,  or,  at  any  rate,  sixty  years,  ought  surely 
to  be  familiar  with  the  conditions  relating  to  the  quality 
and  quantity  of  food  suited  to  his  individual  constitution ; 
and  he  who  observes  these  two  rules,  lives  the  orderly  and 
temperate  life  —  a  life  which  has  so  much  virtue  and 
power  that  it  renders  the  humors  of  the  body  most  perfect, 
harmonious,  and  united.  Indeed,  they  are  brought  to  so 
satisfactory  a  condition  that  it  is  impossible  they  should 
ever  be  disturbed  or  altered  by  any  form  of  disorder  which 
we  may  incur,  such  as  suffering  extreme  heat  or  cold, 
extraordinary  fatigue,  loss  of  customary  sleep,  or  any 
other  disorder  —  unless  carried  to  the  last  excess. 

In  a  word,  the  humors  of  the  body,  if  it  be  governed 
by  these  two  excellent  rules  relative  to  eating  and  drink- 
ing, resist  weakening  changes;  thus  fever,  from  which 
proceeds  untimely  death,  is  made  impossible.  It  would 
seem,  then,  that  every  man  should  observe  the  orderly  life ; 
for  it  is  beyond  doubt  that  whoever  does  not  follow  it,  but 
lives  a  disorderly  and  intemperate  life,  is,  on  account  of 
excessive  eating  and  drinking  as  well  as  of  each  and  every 
one  of  the  other  innumerable  disorders,  constantly  ex- 
posed to  the  danger  of  sickness  and  of  death. 

81 


THE  ART  OF   LIVING   LONG 

I  admit  it  to  be  quite  true  that  even  those  who  are 
faithful  to  the  two  rules  in  regard  to  eating  and  drinking, 
—  the  observance  of  which  constitutes  the  orderly  and 
temperate  life,  —  may,  if  exposed  to  some  of  the  other 
disorders,  be  ailing  for  a  day  of  two ;  but  their  indisposi- 
tion will  never  be  able  to  cause  fever.  They  may,  likewise, 
be  influenced  by  the  revolutions  of  the  heavens.  But 
neither  the  heavens,  nor  those  disorders,  are  capable  of 
disturbing  the  humors  of  those  who  follow  the  temperate 
life.  This  statement  is  but  conformable  to  reason  and 
nature ;  since  the  disorders  of  eating  and  drinking  are  in- 
ternal, while  all  others  are  external  only. 

But  there  are  persons,  who,  notwithstanding  they  are 
advanced  in  years,  are  none  the  less  sensual.  These 
maintain  that  neither  the  quantity  nor  the  quality  of  their 
food  or  drink  in  any  way  injures  them;  therefore  they 
use,  without  discrimination,  large  quantities  of  different 
viands,  and  are  equally  indiscreet  with  regard  to  drink, 
as  if  ignorant  in  what  region  of  the  body  the  stomach  is 
situated.  Thus  they  give  proof  of  their  gross  sensuality 
and  of  the  fact  that  they  are  the  friends  of  gluttony.  To 
these  be  it  set  forth,  that  what  they  assert  is  not  possible 
according  to  nature ;  for  whoever  is  born  must,  necessarily, 
bring  into  this  world  with  him  either  a  warm,  or  a 
cold,  or  else  a  moderate  temperament.  Now  to  say 
that  warm  foods  agree  with  a  warm  temperament,  that 
cold  foods  agree  with  a  cold  one,  or  that  foods  which 
are  not  of  a  moderate  quality  agree  with  a  moderate  tem- 
perament, is  to  state  something  naturally  impossible. 
Therefore  each  one  must  choose  the  quality  of  food  best 
suited  to  his  constitution.  Nor  can  those  addicted  to 
sensuality  argue  that,  whenever  they  fall  sick,  they  are 
enabled  to  free  themselves  of  their  sickness  by  clearing 
their  systems  with  medicines  and  then  observing  a  strict 

82 


LUIGI  CORNAEO'S  TREATISE 

diet.  It  is  very  evident,  thereby,  that  their  trouble  arises 
solely  from  indulgence  in  overmuch  food,  and  that  of  a 
quality  unsuited  to  their  stomachs. 

There  are  other  persons,  likewise  elderly,  who  declare 
that  they  are  obliged  to  eat  and  drink  a  great  deal  to 
maintain  the  natural  warmth  of  their  bodies,  which  con- 
stantly diminishes  as  their  years  increase ;  that  they  must 
have  whatever  food  pleases  their  taste,  whether  hot,  or 
cold,  or  temperate;  and  that,  were  they  to  live  the  tem- 
perate life,  they  would  soon  die.  My  answer  thereto  is 
that  kind  Mother  Nature,  in  order  that  the  aged,  whom 
she  loves,  may  be  preserved  to  yet  greater  age,  has  so 
provided  that  they  are  able  to  live  with  very  little  food, 
even  as  I  do;  because  the  stomachs  of  the  old  and  feeble 
cannot  digest  large  quantities.  They  need  not  fear  that 
their  lives  will  be  shortened  by  reason  of  their  not  taking 
much  food;  since,  by  using  very  little  when  sick,  they 
recover  their  health  —  and  we  know  how  sparing  is  the 
diet  by  the  use  of  which  invalids  are  restored.  If,  by 
confining  themselves  to  a  scanty  fare  when  ill,  they  are 
freed  of  their  disorders,  why  should  they  fear  that,  while 
using  the  larger  quantity  of  food  permitted  by  the  tem- 
perate life,  they  should  not  be  able  to  sustain  their  lives 
when  in  perfect  health? 

Others,  again,  say  that  it  is  better  to  suffer  three 
or  four  times  a  year  with  their  usual  complaints,  such 
as  the  gout,  pains  in  the  side,  or  other  ills,  rather  than 
suffer  the  whole  year  round  by  not  gratifying  the  appe- 
tite in  the  eating  of  those  things  which  please  the  palate ; 
since  they  know  that  by  the  medicine  of  a  simple  diet 
they  can  speedily  recover.  To  them  I  reply  that,  with  the 
increase  of  years  and  the  consequent  decrease  of  natural 
heat,  dieting  cannot  always  have  suflQcient  power  to  undo 
the  grave  harm  done  by  overeating.      Hence  they  will 

83 


THE  ART  OF  UVING  LONG 

necessarily  succumb,  at  last,  to  these  ailments  of  theirs; 
for  sickness  shortens  life,  even  as  health  prolongs  it. 

Others,  again,  insist  that  it  is  far  better  to  live  ten 
years  less,  rather  than  to  deprive  one's  self  of  the 
pleasure  of  gratifying  the  appetite.  To  this,  I  would 
say  that  men  endowed  with  fine  talents  ought  to  prize  a 
long  life  very  highly.  For  the  balance,  it  matters  little 
that  they  do  not  value  it;  and,  as  they  only  make  the 
world  less  beautiful,  it  is  as  well,  perhaps,  that  they 
should  die. 

The  great  misfortune  is  that  a  refined  and  talented 
man  should  die  before  he  has  attained  the  natural  limit 
of  his  life;  since,  if  he  is  already  a  cardinal,  when  he 
has  passed  the  age  of  eighty  he  will  the  more  likely  be- 
come pope;  if  he  is  a  public  official,  how  much  greater  is 
the  possibility  of  his  being  called  to  the  highest  dignity 
in  the  state ;  if  a  man  of  letters,  he  will  be  looked  upon  as 
a  god  on  earth ;  and  the  same  is  true  of  all  others,  accord- 
ing to  their  various  occupations. 

There  are  others,  again,  who,  having  come  to  old  age, 
when  the  stomach  naturally  possesses  less  digestive  power, 
will  not  consent  to  diminish  the  quantity  of  their  food; 
nay,  on  the  contrary,  they  increase  it.  And  since,  eating 
twice  in  the  day,  they  find  they  cannot  digest  the  great 
amount  of  food  with  which  they  burden  their  stomachs, 
they  decide  that  it  is  better  to  eat  but  once;  for,  relying 
upon  the  long  interval  thus  allowed  between  meals,  they 
believe  themselves  able  to  eat,  at  one  time,  the  same  quan- 
tity which  they  had  previously  divided  into  two  meals. 
But,  in  doing  this,  they  are  guilty  of  a  fatal  error;  for 
they  eat  such  a  quantity  that  the  stomach  is  overloaded 
so  grievously  as  to  suffer  and  become  sour,  converting 
the  excessive  food  into  those  bad  humors  which  kill  men 
before  their  time. 


84 


LUIGI   COENARO'S   TREATISE 

I  may  say  I  have  never  known  any  person  to  live  to 
a  great  age  who  indulged  in  that  habit  of  life.  Yet,  all 
these  persons  would  live  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  extreme 
old  age,  if,  as  their  years  increase,  they  were  but  to  reduce 
the  quantity  of  their  food  and  distribute  it  into  several 
meals  during  the  day,  eating  but  little  at  a  time ;  for  the 
stomachs  of  the  aged  cannot  digest  a  great  quantity  of 
food.  Thus  it  is  that  an  old  man  becomes,  in  regard  to 
his  nourishment,  more  and  more  like  a  child,  who  has  to 
eat  many  times  during  the  day. 

Finally,  we  have  those  who  say  that  while  the  tem- 
perate life  may  indeed  be  able  to  preserve  a  man  in  health, 
it  cannot  prolong  his  life.  To  these  I  answer  that  ex- 
perience proves  the  contrary  to  be  true;  for  we  know  of 
many  persons,  who,  in  times  past,  have  prolonged  their 
lives  in  this  manner,  and  it  may  be  observed  that  I,  too, 
have  thus  prolonged  mine.  It  cannot,  whatever  may  be 
said,  be  objected  that  sobriety  shortens  the  life  of  man  as 
sickness  unquestionably  does.  Therefore  it  is  more  con- 
ducive to  the  preservation  of  the  radical  moisture  that  a 
man  be  always  healthy  than  that  he  be  often  sick.  Hence 
we  may  reasonably  conclude  that  the  holy  temperate  life 
is  the  true  mother  of  health  and  of  longevity. 

O  most  blessed  and  holy  Temperate  Life,  so  profit- 
able to  man,  and  so  helpful !  Thou  enablest  him  to  pro- 
long his  life  to  ripe  old  age,  wherein  he  becomes  wise 
and  hearkens  to  reason,  —  that  faculty  which  is  man's 
peculiar  property,  —  by  means  of  which  he  is  freed  from 
sensuality,  reason's  worst  enemy,  and  its  bitter  fruits,  the 
passions  and  anxieties  of  the  mind.  Thou  deliverest  him 
also  from  the  fearful  thought  of  death.  Oh,  how  much 
am  I,  thy  faithful  follower,  indebted  to  thee!  for  it  is 
through  thee  I  enjoy  this  beautiful  world  —  beautiful, 

85 


THE   ART  OP   LIVING   LONG       . 

indeed,  to  him  who  knows  how,  by  thy  effectual  help,  to 
make  it  so  for  himself,  as  thou  hast  enabled  me  to  do ! 

At  no  other  period  of  my  existence,  even  in  my 
sensual  and  disorderly  youth,  could  I  make  life  so  beauti- 
ful ;  and  yet,  in  order  to  enjoy  every  portion  of  it,  I  spared 
neither  expense  nor  anything  else.  For  I  found  that  the 
pleasures  of  those  years  were,  after  all,  but  vain  and  filled 
with  disappointments ;  so  that  I  may  say  I  never  knew  the 
world  was  beautiful  until  I  reached  old  age. 

O  truly  Happy  Life !  Thou,  besides  all  the  aforesaid 
manifold  blessings  thou  grantest  to  thy  old  disciple,  hast 
brought  his  stomach  to  so  good  and  perfect  a  condition 
that  he  now  relishes  plain  bread  more  than  he  ever  did 
the  most  delicate  viands  in  the  years  of  his  youth.  All 
this  thou  dost  because  thou  art  reasonable,  knowing  that 
bread  is  the  proper  food  of  man  when  accompanied  by 
a  healthful  appetite.  This  natural  company,  so  long  as 
a  man  follows  the  temperate  life,  he  may  be  sure  will 
never  fail  him;  since,  he  eating  but  little,  the  stomach 
is  but  lightly  burdened  and  has  always,  within  a  short 
time,  a  renewed  desire  for  food.  For  this  reason  plain 
bread  is  so  much  relished.  This  I  have  proved  by  my  own 
experience  to  be  true;  and  I  declare  that  I  enjoy  bread 
so  much  that  I  should  be  afraid  of  incurring  the  vice  of 
gluttony,  were  it  not  that  I  am  convinced  it  is  necessary 
we  should  eat  of  it  and  that  we  cannot  partake  of  a  more 
natural  food. 

And  thou.  Mother  Nature,  so  loving  to  thy  old  man, 
preserving  him  so  long!  Thou,  besides  providing  that 
with  little  food  he  may  maintain  himself,  hast  moreover 
shown  him  —  to  favor  him  more  and  in  order  that  his 
nourishment  may  be  more  profitable  to  him  —  that,  while 
in  youth  he  partook  of  two  meals  a  day,  now,  that  he 

86 


LUIGI  CORNARO'S  TREATISE 

has  attained  old  age,  his  food  must  be  divided  into  four ; 
since,  thus  divided,  it  will  be  more  easily  digested  by  his 
stomach.  In  this  way  thou  showest  him  that,  as  in  youth 
he  enjoyed  the  pleasures  of  the  table  but  twice  a  day,  now, 
in  his  old  age,  he  may  enjoy  them  four  times,  provided, 
however,  he  diminishes  the  quantity  of  his  food  as  he  ad- 
vances in  age. 

As  thou  showest  me,  so  do  I  observe.  In  consequence 
of  which,  my  spirits,  never  oppressed  by  much  food,  but 
simply  sustained,  are  always  cheerful;  and  their  energy 
is  never  greater  than  after  meals.  For  I  feel,  when  I 
leave  the  table,  that  I  must  sing,  and,  after  singing,  that 
I  must  write.  This  writing  immediately  after  eating  does 
not  cause  me  any  discomfort;  nor  is  my  mind  less  clear 
then  than  at  other  times.  And  I  do  not  feel  like  sleep- 
ing; for  the  small  amount  of  food  I  take  cannot  make  me 
drowsy,  as  it  is  insufficient  to  send  fumes  from  the  stomach 
to  the  head. 

Oh,  how  profitable  it  is  to  the  old  to  eat  but  little! 
I,  accordingly,  who  am  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  this 
truth,  eat  only  what  is  enough  to  sustain  my  life ;  and  my 
food  is  as  follows: 

First,  bread;  then,  bread  soup  or  light  broth  with 
an  eggf  or  some  other  nice  little  dish  of  this  kind;  of 
meats,  I  eat  veal,  kid,  and  mutton;  I  eat  fowls  of  all 
kinds,  as  well  as  partridges  and  birds  like  the  thrush.  I 
also  partake  of  such  salt-water  fish  as  the  goldney  and 
the  like;  and,  among  the  various  fresh- water  kinds,  the 
pike  and  others. 

As  all  these  articles  of  food  are  suited  to  old  people, 
the  latter  must  be  satisfied  with  them  and  not  demand 
others;  for  they  are  quite  suflftcient,  both  in  number  and 
variety.  Old  persons,  who,  on  account  of  poverty,  cannot 
afford  to  indulge  in  all  of  these  things,  may  maintain 

87 


THE  ART  OP  LIVING   LONG 

their  lives  with  bread,  bread  soup,  and  eggs  —  foods  that 
certainly  cannot  be  wanting  even  to  a  poor  man,  unless 
he  be  one  of  the  kind  commonly  known  as  good-for- 
nothing. 

Yet,  even  though  the  poor  should  eat  nothing  but 
bread,  bread  soup,  and  eggs,  they  must  not  take  a  greater 
quantity  than  that  which  can  be  easily  digested;  for  they 
must,  at  all  times,  remember  that  he  who  is  constantly 
faithful  to  the  above-mentioned  rules  in  regard  to  the  quan- 
tity and  quality  of  his  food,  cannot  die  except  by  simple 
dissolution  and  without  illness. 

Oh,  what  a  difference  there  is  between  the  orderly 
and  a  disorderly  life!  The  former  blesses  a  man  with 
perfect  health  and,  at  the  same  time,  lengthens  his  life; 
while  the  latter,  on  the  other  hand,  after  bringing  infirmi- 
ties upon  him,  causes  him  to  die  before  his  time. 

O  thou  unhappy  and  wretched  disorderly  life,  thou 
art  my  sworn  enemy ;  for  thou  knowest  how  to  do  nothing 
save  to  murder  those  who  follow  thee!  How  many  of 
my  dearest  relatives  and  friends  hast  thou  snatched  from 
me,  because,  for  thy  sake,  they  would  not  listen  to  my 
advice!  But  for  thee,  I  might  at  this  moment  be  enjoy- 
ing them! 

Yet  thou  hast  not  succeeded  in  destroying  me,  though 
right  willingly  wouldst  thou  have  done  so;  but,  in  spite 
of  thee,  I  am  still  living  and  have  reached  this  advanced 
age.  I  rejoice  in  my  eleven  grandchildren  by  whom  I  am 
surrounded,  and  who  are  all  of  bright  intellect  and  noble 
nature,  healthy,  beautiful,  fond  of  their  studies,  and  in- 
clined to  good  habits.  Them,  if  I  had  listened  to  thee,  I 
should  never  have  enjoyed.  Nor,  had  I  followed  thee, 
should  I  ever  have  experienced  the  pleasure  now  afforded 
me  in  the  comfortable  and  beautiful  habitations  of  my 
own  creation,  which  I  have  surrounded  with  attractive 

88 


LUIGI   CORNARO'S   TREATISE 

gardens  that  have  required  great  length  of  time  to  be 
brought  to  their  present  state  of  perfection. 

No!  for  thy  nature  is  to  murder  all  those  who  follow 
thee,  before  they  have  the  joy  of  witnessing  the  comple- 
tion of  their  houses  and  gardens.  Whilst  I,  to  thy  con- 
fusion, have  already  enjoyed  the  comfort  of  mine  for  many 
years. 

Thou  art  a  vice  so  pestilential  that  thou  spreadest 
sickness  and  corruption  throughout  the  world;  for  which 
reason  I  have  determined  to  use  every  means  in  my  power 
to  deliver  mankind  from  thy  clutches,  at  least  as  far  as 
I  am  able.  I  have  resolved  to  work  against  thee  in  such 
a  manner  that  my  eleven  grandchildren,  after  me,  shall 
make  thee  known  for  that  most  wretched  and  vicious 
thing  thou  really  art  —  the  mortal  enemy  of  all  men  who 
are  born. 

I  am  astonished,  indeed,  that  men  gifted  with  fine 
intellect  —  for  there  are  many  such  —  and  who  have 
reached  a  high  position  either  in  literature  or  some  other 
occupation,  should  not  embrace  and  follow  the  temperate 
life,  at  least  when  they  come  to  the  age  of  fifty  or  sixty 
and  are  troubled  with  any  of  the  above-mentioned  dis- 
orders; for,  by  following  the  temperate  life,  they  could 
easily  deliver  themselves  from  these  ailments,  which,  later 
on,  if  allowed  to  make  further  progress,  will  become  in- 
curable. I  do  not  wonder  so  much  that  some  young  men 
—  those  of  them,  at  least,  whose  lives  and  habits  are  con- 
trolled by  sensuality  —  should  neglect  sobriety;  but  cer- 
tainly, after  a  man  has  passed  the  age  of  fifty,  his  life 
should  be  altogether  guided  by  reason,  which  teaches  that 
the  gratification  of  the  tastes  and  appetites  means  in- 
firmity and  death. 

If  this  pleasure  of  the  taste  were  a  lasting  one,  we 
might  have  some  patience  with  those  who  are  so  ready 

89 


THE  ABT  OF  LIVING  LONG 

to  yield  to  it  But  it  is  so  short-lived  that  it  is  no  sooner 
begun  than  ended;  while  the  infirmities  which  proceed 
from  it  are  of  very  long  duration.  Moreover,  to  the  man 
who  follows  the  temperate  life  it  is  assuredly  a  great  satis- 
faction to  know,  when  he  has  finished  eating,  that  the 
food  he  has  taken  will  never  cause  him  any  sickness,  but 
will  keep  him  in  perfect  health. 

I  have  now  completed  the  short  addition  I  wished  to 
make  to  my  treatise,  "La  Vita  Sohria"  —  an  addition 
based  on  new  arguments,  though,  at  the  same  time,  it  is 
one  of  few  words.  For  I  have  observed  that  long  dis- 
courses are  read  by  a  few  only,  while  brief  ones  are  read 
by  many;  and  I  most  heartily  desire  that  this  be  read  by 
many,  in  order  that  it  may  prove  useful  to  many. 


90 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE 


WRITTEN   AT   THE   AGE   OF   NINETY-ONE 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  VENERABLE  CORNARO 

TO 

THE  REVEREND  DANIEL  BARBARO* 

PATBIABCH  ELECT  OF  AQUIUEIA** 


In  which  he  gives  mankind  a  rule  of  life  that  will,  if  followed, 
assure  a  healthy  and  happy  old  age 


THE  intellect  of  man  truly  partakes,  in  some  degree, 
of  the  divine  prerogatives ;  for  it  was,  indeed,  some- 
thing divine  which  led  him  to  find  a  way  of  convers- 
ing, by  means  of  writing,  with  another  who  is  at  a  dis- 
tance. And  a  thing  altogether  divine,  also,  is  that  natural 
faculty  which  enables  him,  when  thus  separated,  to  behold, 
with  the  eye  of  thought,  his  beloved  friend ;  even  as  I  now 
see  you.  Sir,  and  address  to  you  this  my  discourse  on  a 
pleasant  and  profitable  subject. 

•  See  Note  K  ♦•  See  Note  L 

91 


THE  AET  OF   LIVING  LONG 

It  is  true  that  what  I  shall  write  will  be  upon  a  mat- 
ter which  has  already  been  treated  at  other  times,  but 
never  by  any  man  at  the  age  of  ninety-one  —  at  which 
time  of  life  I  am  now  writing.  On  account  of  my  age, 
I  cannot  be  at  fault ;  for  the  more  my  years  multiply,  the 
more  my  strength  also  increases.  And  I,  who  am  well 
aware  from  what  cause  this  proceeds,  feel  compelled  to 
make  it  known,  and  to  show  that  all  mankind  may  possess 
an  earthly  paradise  after  the  age  of  eighty  —  a  paradise 
with  which  I  myself  am  blessed.  But  one  cannot  attain 
it  otherwise  than  by  means  of  holy  self-restraint  and  the 
temperate  life  —  two  virtues  much  loved  by  the  great  God, 
because  they  are  the  enemies  of  sensuality  and  the  friends 
of  reason. 

Now,  Sir,  to  begin  my  discourse,  I  shall  tell  you  that 
I  have,  within  the  past  few  days,  been  visited  by  a  number 
of  excellent  professors  who  lecture  in  our  University  — 
doctors  of  medicine  as  well  as  philosophy.  These  gentle- 
men are  all  well  acquainted  with  my  age,  and  with  my 
manner  and  habits  of  living,  and  know  how  full  I  am  of 
cheerfulness  and  health.  They  know,  too,  that  all  my 
senses  are  in  perfect  condition  —  as  also  are  my  memory, 
my  heart,  and  my  mind  —  and  that  this  is  equally  true 
of  even  my  voice  and  my  teeth.  Nor  are  they  ignorant 
of  the  fact  that  I  constantly  write,  and  with  my  own  hand, 
eight  hours  a  day,  and  always  on  subjects  profitable  to 
the  world;  and,  in  addition  to  this,  that  I  walk  and  sing 
for  many  other  hours. 

Oh,  how  beautiful  and  sonorous  has  my  voice  become ! 
If  you  could  but  hear  me  sing  my  prayers  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  the  lyre,  as  King  David  sang  to  that  of  the 
harp,  I  assure  you  that  you  would  derive  great  pleasure. 

Among  other  things,  my  visitors,  the  doctors,  said: 

92 


LUIGI   CORNARO'S   TREATISE 

"It  is  certainly  marvelous  that  you  are  able  to  write  so 
much,  and  upon  subjects  which  require  such  thought  and 
spirit."  Concerning  which,  Sir,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  one 
can  form  no  idea  of  the  extreme  pleasure  and  satisfaction 
I  experience  in  writing  thus;  and,  when  I  reflect  that  my 
writings  will  assuredly  be  useful  to  mankind,  you  can 
readily  understand  how  great  is  my  delight. 

In  fine,  they  said  that  I  could  by  no  means  be  con- 
sidered an  old  man.  For  all  my  actions  are  those  of 
youth,  and  not  at  all  like  the  actions  of  other  old  persons ; 
who,  when  they  have  arrived  at  the  age  of  eighty,  are  almost 
helpless,  besides  having  to  suffer  either  from  pains  in  the 
side  or  from  some  other  complaint.  In  order  to  rid  them- 
selves of  these  troubles,  they  are  continually  subject  to 
medical  treatment  or  surgical  operations,  all  of  which  are 
a  great  annoyance.  Should  there  be  any  among  them  so 
fortunate  as  not  to  suffer  from  these  infirmities,  it  will 
be  found  that  their  senses  have  begun  to  fail  —  either  that 
of  sight,  or  that  of  hearing,  or  some  other  one.  We  know 
of  old  persons  who  cannot  walk,  and  of  others  who  can- 
not use  their  hands  because  they  tremble;  and,  if  one  of 
the  number  is  so  favored  as  to  be  free  from  the  above 
troubles,  it  will  be  observed  that  he  does  not  have  a  per- 
fect memory,  or  else  that  his  heart  or  his  mind  is  weak. 
In  a  word,  there  is  not  one  among  them  who  enjoys  a 
cheerful,  happy,  and  contented  life,  such  as  mine  is. 

But,  besides  these  many  advantages  which  I  pos- 
sess, there  is  a  special  one  which  caused  them  to  wonder 
extremely,  because  it  is  so  very  uncommon  and  contrary 
to  nature;  and  that  is,  that  I  should  have  been  able  to 
keep  myself  alive  during  the  past  fifty  years,  nothwith- 
standing  the  presence  of  an  extreme  difficulty  —  one  of  a 
mortal  character  —  that  has  always  been  present  in  me. 

93 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

This  difficulty,  which  cannot  be  remedied,  because  it  is 
a  natural  and  hidden  property  of  my  constitution,  con- 
sists in  this :  Every  year,  from  the  beginning  of  July  and 
throughout  the  whole  of  August,  I  cannot  drink  any 
kind  of  wine  soever,  be  it  of  what  variety  of  grape  or 
of  what  country  it  may;  for,  during  the  whole  of  those 
two  months,  wine,  besides  being  very  unfriendly  to  my 
palate,  disagrees  with  my  stomach.  So  that,  being  with- 
out my  milk,  —  for  wine  is  truly  the  milk  of  the  aged,  — 
I  am  left  without  anything  to  drink ;  for  waters,  in  what- 
ever way  they  may  be  doctored  or  prepared,  have  not 
the  virtue  of  wine,  and  fail  to  relieve  me.  My  stomach 
becomes  very  much  disordered,  and  I  can  eat  but  very 
little  in  consequence.  This  scarcity  of  food  and  lack  of 
wine  reduces  me,  by  the  latter  part  of  August,  to  a  con- 
dition of  extreme  mortal  weakness.  Neither  does  strong 
chicken  broth  nor  any  other  remedy  benefit  me  in  the  least ; 
so  that,  through  weakness  alone,  —  not  by  any  ailment, 
—  I  am  brought  very  near  a  dying  condition.  It  was  evi- 
dent to  my  visitors  that,  if  the  new  wine,  which  I  am  al- 
ways careful  to  have  ready  every  year  by  the  beginning 
of  September,  were  not  then  forthcoming,  the  delay  would 
be  the  cause  of  my  death. 

But  they  were  yet  more  amazed  at  the  fact  that  this 
new  wine  should  have  power  to  restore,  in  two  or  three 
days,  the  strength  of  which  the  old  wine  had  deprived 
me  —  a  thing  of  which  they  had  themselves  been  eye-wit- 
nesses, and  which  could  not  be  believed  except  by  those 
who  have  seen  it. 

"Some  of  us,"  the  doctors  went  on  to  say,  'Tiave 
observed  your  strange  case  for  many  years  in  succes- 
sion; and,  for  the  past  ten  years,  it  has  been  our  opinion 
that,  considering  what  a  mortal  difficulty  you  are  under 
as  well  as  your  increasing  age,  it  would  be  impossible 

94 


LUIGI   CORNAEO^S   TREATISE 

for  you  to  live  more  than  a  year  or  two  longer.  Yet  we 
see,  this  year,  that  your  weakness  is  less  than  in  previous 
years." 

This  blessing,  associated  with  so  many  others,  forced 
them  to  the  conclusion  that  the  union  of  all  these  many 
favors  was  a  special  grace  bestowed  on  me  at  birth  by 
Nature  or  by  the  heavens.  In  order  to  prove  this  conclu- 
sion true,  —  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  false,  because 
not  based  upon  good  reasons  and  solid  foundations,  but 
simply  upon  their  own  opinions,  —  they  found  themselves 
under  the  necessity  of  giving  utterance  to  many  beautiful 
and  lofty  things  with  the  finest  eloquence.  Eloquence,  Sir, 
in  men  of  intellect,  verily  has  great  power;  so  much  so, 
indeed,  that  it  will  persuade  some  people  to  believe  things 
that  are  not  and  can  not  be  true.  Their  words,  however, 
were  to  me  a  great  pleasure  and  quite  an  amusing  pastime ; 
for  it  is  certainly  highly  entertaining  to  listen  to  such 
talk  from  men  of  their  intelligence. 

And  here  I  was  granted  another  satisfaction ;  namely, 
the  thought  that  advanced  age,  by  reason  of  its  experience, 
is  able  to  confer  learning  upon  the  unlearned.  This  is 
not  diflScult  to  understand ;  for  length  of  days  is  the  real 
foundation  of  true  knowledge  —  by  means  of  which,  alone, 
I  was  made  aware  of  the  erroneousness  of  their  conclu- 
sions. Thus  you  see.  Sir,  how  apt  men  are  to  err  in  form- 
ing their  opinions  when  these  are  not  based  upon  solid 
foundations. 

In  order,  therefore,  to  undeceive  them  as  well  as  to 
be  of  other  service  to  them,  I  told  them  plainly  that  their 
conclusion  was  wrong,  and  that  I  would  convince  them 
of  this  by  clearly  proving  that  the  blessing  which  I  enjoy 
is  not  a  special  one,  conferred  upon  me  alone,  but  a  gen- 
eral one  and   such  as  every  man   may  possess   if  he 

95 


THE  ART   OF   LIVING   LONG 

choose.  For  I  am  only  an  ordinary  mortal.  Composed, 
like  everybody  else,  of  the  four  elements,  I  have  —  in 
addition  to  existence  —  sense,  intellect,  and  reason.  With 
the  two  latter  faculties  every  one  of  us  is  born,  the  great 
God  having  willed  that  man.  His  creature  whom  He  loves 
so  well,  should  possess  these  gifts  and  blessings ;  for  thus 
has  He  raised  him  above  all  the  other  creatures  which 
have  sense  only,  in  order  that,  by  means  of  these  faculties, 
he  may  preserve  himself  in  perfect  health  for  many  years. 
Therefore  mine  is  a  universal  blessing,  granted  by  God, 
and  not  by  Nature  or  the  heavens. 

Man  is,  in  his  youth,  however,  more  a  sensual  than 
a  rational  creature,  and  is  inclined  to  live  accordingly. 
Yet,  when  he  has  arrived  at  the  age  of  forty  or  fifty,  he 
certainly  ought  to  realize  that  he  has  been  enabled  to 
reach  the  middle  of  life  solely  through  the  power  of  youth 
and  a  young  stomach,  those  natural  gifts  which  have 
helped  him  in  the  ascent  of  the  hill.  Now  he  must  bear 
in  mind  that,  burdened  with  the  disadvantage  of  old  age, 
he  is  about  to  descend  it  toward  death.  And,  since  old 
age  is  exactly  the  opposite  of  youth,  just  as  disorder  is 
the  reverse  of  order,  it  becomes  imperative  for  him  to 
change  his  habits  of  life  with  regard  to  eating  and  drink- 
ing, upon  which  a  long  and  healthy  life  depends.  As  his 
earlier  years  were  sensual  and  disorderly,  the  balance  of 
them  must  be  exactly  the  contrary,  reasonable  and  or- 
derly ;  because  without  order  nothing  can  be  preserved  — 
least  of  all,  the  life  of  man.  For  it  is  well  proved  by  ex- 
perience that,  while  disorder  does  grievous  harm,  order 
is  constantly  beneficial. 

It  is  necessarily  impossible,  in  the  nature  of  things, 
that  a  man  should  be  determined  to  satisfy  his  taste  and 
appetite,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  commit  no  excesses; 
so,  to  be  free  from  these  excesses,  I  adopted  the  orderly 

96 


LUIGI  CORNARO^S  TREATISE 

and  temperate  life  when  I  had  once  reached  the  state  of 
manhood.  I  shall  not  deny  that,  in  the  beginning,  I  ex- 
perienced some  difficulty  in  abandoning  an  intemperate 
life  after  leading  it  for  so  many  years.  But,  in  order  that 
I  might  be  able  to  follow  the  temperate  life,  I  prayed  to 
God  that  He  would  grant  me  the  virtue  of  self-restraint, 
knowing  well  that,  when  a  man  has  firmly  resolved  to 
realize  a  noble  enterprise  and  one  which  he  is  convinced 
he  can  accomplish,  —  though  not  without  difficulty,  —  it 
is  made  much  easier  by  bending  all  his  energy  upon  doing 
it  and  actually  setting  to  work.  Spurred  by  this  resolve, 
I  began,  little  by  little,  to  draw  myself  away  from  my 
disorderly  life,  and,  little  by  little,  to  embrace  the  orderly 
one.  In  this  manner  I  gave  myself  up  to  the  temperate 
life,  which  has  not  since  been  wearisome  to  me ;  although, 
on  account  of  the  weakness  of  my  constitution,  I  was  com- 
pelled to  be  extremely  careful  with  regard  to  the  quality 
and  quantity  of  my  food  and  drink. 

However,  those  persons  who  are  blessed  with  strong 
constitutions  may  make  use  of  many  other  kinds  and  qual- 
ities of  food  and  drink,  and  partake  of  them  in  greater 
quantities,  than  I  do;  so  that,  even  though  the  life  they 
follow  be  the  temperate  one,  it  need  not  be  as  strict  as 
mine,  but  much  freer. 

After  they  had  heard  my  arguments  and  found  them 
grounded,  as  they  were,  upon  solid  foundations,  my  vis- 
itors admitted  that  all  I  had  said  was  true.  The  youngest 
of  them,  however,  while  ready  to  grant  that  the  graces 
and  advantages  which  I  enjoyed  were  general,  contended 
that  I  had  had  at  least  one  special  blessing  vouchsafed 
me,  in  being  able  to  relinquish  so  easily  the  kind  of  life 
I  had  so  long  followed,  and  to  accustom  myself  to  lead 
the  other;  because,  although  he  had  found  this  change, 
by  his  own  experience,  to  be  feasible,  to  him  it  had  been 
very  difficult. 

97 


THE  ART  OP   LIVING   LONG 

I  replied  that,  being  a  man  like  himself,  I  had  also 
found  it  no  easy  matter  to  pass  from  the  one  kind  of  life 
to  the  other;  but  I  knew  it  was  unworthy  of  a  man  to 
abandon  a  noble  undertaking  simply  on  account  of  the 
difl&culties  encountered.  For,  the  more  obstacles  a  man 
meets  and  overcomes,  the  greater  is  the  honor  he  gains 
and  the  more  pleasing  his  action  in  the  sight  of  God. 

Our  Maker,  having  ordained  that  the  life  of  man 
should  last  for  many  years,  is  desirous  that  everyone 
should  attain  the  extreme  limit;  since  He  knows  that, 
after  the  age  of  eighty,  man  is  wholly  freed  from  the  bitter 
fruits  of  sensuality  and  is  replenished  with  those  of  holy 
reason.  Then,  of  necessity,  vices  and  sins  are  left  behind. 
Wherefore  it  is  that  God  wishes  we  should  all  live  to 
extreme  age;  and  He  has  ordained  that  they  who  do  so 
reach  their  natural  limit  of  earthly  existence,  shall  ter- 
minate it  without  pain  or  sickness  and  by  simple  dissolu- 
tion. Such  is,  indeed,  the  natural  way  of  departing  from 
this  world,  when  we  leave  the  mortal  life  to  enter  upon 
the  immortal  one  —  as  it  will  be  my  lot  to  do ;  for  I  feel 
certain  that  I  shall  die  while  singing  my  prayers. 

The  awful  thought  of  death  does  not  trouble  me  in 
the  least,  although  I  realize,  on  account  of  my  many  years, 
I  am  nigh  to  it ;  for  I  reflect  that  I  was  bom  to  die,  and 
that  many  others  have  departed  this  life  at  a  much  younger 
age  than  mine. 

Nor  am  I  disturbed  by  that  other  thought,  a  com- 
panion of  the  foregoing  one;  namely,  the  thought  of  the 
punishment,  which,  after  death,  must  be  suffered  for  sins 
committed  in  this  life.  For  I  am  a  good  Christian;  and, 
as  such,  I  am  bound  to  believe  that  I  shall  be  delivered 
from  that  punishment  by  virtue  of  the  most  sacred  blood 
of  Christ,  which  He  shed  in  order  to  free  us,  His  faithful 
servants,  from  those  pains.  Oh,  what  a  beautiful  life  is 
mine,  and  how  happy  my  end  will  be! 

98 


LUIGI   CORNAEO^S   TREATISE 

Having  heard  me  out,  the  young  man  replied  that, 
in  order  to  gain  the  numerous  and  great  advantages  I 
had  gained,  he  was  determined  to  embrace  the  temperate 
life  I  had  so  long  practiced.  He  further  declared  he  had 
already  gained  a  highly  important  one ;  namely,  that  as  he 
had  always  had  a  lively  wish  to  live  to  a  very  great  age, 
so  now  he  desired  to  attain  it  as  quickly  as  possible,  in 
order  to  enter  sooner  into  possession  of  the  delights  of 
that  most  enjoyable  season. 

The  great  longing  I  had  to  converse  with  you,  Eever- 
end  Sir,  has  forced  me  to  write  at  considerable  length; 
while  that  which  I  still  wish  to  say  to  you  obliges  me  to 
continue  my  letter.    But  I  shall  be  brief. 

Dear  Sir,  there  are  some  very  sensual  men  who 
claim  that  I  have  only  wasted  time,  as  well  as  labor,  in 
composing  my  treatise,  "La  Vita  Sobria"  and  the  addi- 
tions I  have  made  to  it;  for,  as  they  allege,  I  am  exhorting 
men  to  adopt  habits  to  which  it  is  impossible  for  them 
to  conform.  They  assert  that  my  treatise  will  be  as  vain 
as  the  "Republic''  by  Plato,  who  labored  to  write  of 
a  system  which  was  impracticable  —  that,  as  his  work  is 
useless,  so  also  will  mine  be. 

I  wonder  much  at  such  a  line  of  argument  on  the 
part  of  intelligent  men;  for,  if  they  have  read  my 
treatise,  they  must  have  clearly  seen  that  I  had  led  the 
temperate  life  for  many  years  before  writing  anything 
regarding  it.  Nor  should  I  ever  have  written,  had  not 
my  own  experience  convinced  me,  without  a  shadow  of 
doubt,  not  only  that  it  is  a  practicable  life,  and  such  as 
all  men  may  easily  lead,  but,  furthermore,  that  it  profits 
greatly  because  it  is  a  life  of  virtue.  I  am  so  much 
indebted  to  it  myself  that  I  felt  obliged  to  write  of  it, 
in  order  that  I  might  make  it  known  to  others  as  the 
inestimable  blessing  it  truly  is.    I  know  of  many  persons, 

99 


THE  ART   OP  LIVING   LONG 

who,  after  reading  my  treatise,  have  adopted  that  life; 
and  I  know,  too,  that  in  past  ages,  as  we  read  in  history, 
there  were  many  who  were  remarkable  as  its  followers. 
Hence  the  objection  which  is  urged  against  Plato's  "Re- 
puhli&'  certainly  does  not  hold  good  in  the  case  of  my 
treatise,  ^^La  Vita  Sobria"  But  these  sensual  men, 
enemies  of  reason  and  friends  of  intemperance,  will  only 
receive  their  just  deserts  if,  while  seeking  to  gratify  their 
every  taste  and  appetite,  they  incur  painful  sicknesses,  and 
meet,  as  many  such  do,  with  a  premature  death. 


100 


LORD  BACON 
1561  -1626 

From   the   painting   by   Paul  Van   Somer 

National  Portrait  Gallery,  London 
Photograph  copyrighted  by  Walker  and  Cocterell 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE 


WKITTEN  AT  THE  AGE  OF  NINETY-FIVE 


The  Birth  and  Death  of  Man 


A  LOVING  EXHORTATION 

In  which,  by  the  authority  of  his  own  experience,  the  aged 

author  strives  to  persuade  all  mankind  to  follow  the 

orderly  and  temperate  life,  in  order  that  they,  too, 

may  reach  an  advanced  age,  in  which  to  enjoy  all 

those  g^ces  and  blessings  that  God  in  His 

goodness  is  pleased  to  grant  to  mortals 


IN  order  that  I  may  not  fail  in  the  discharge  of  my 
duty  —  a  law  to  which  every  man  is  bound  —  and,  at 
the  same  time,  that  I  may  not  forego  the  pleasure 
I  invariably  experience  in  being  of  service  to  my 
fellow-men,  I  have  determined  to  write  and  to  make 
known  to  those  persons  who  do  not  know  them  —  because 
unacquainted  with  me  —  the  things  which  are  known  and 
seen  by  those  who  frequent  my  company.  Certain  facts 
I  shall  now  relate  will,  to  some,  appear  diflQcult  of  belief 

103 


THE  ART  OP  LIVING  LONG 

and  well-nigh  impossible;  nevertheless,  since  they  are  all 
true  and  to  be  seen  in  reality,  I  will  not  refrain  from 
writing  of  them,  that  the  knowledge  of  them  may  benefit 
the  world  at  large. 

In  the  first  place,  I  shall  say  that  I  have,  through 
the  mercy  of  God,  reached  the  age  of  ninety-five;  that  I 
find  myself,  in  spite  of  my  great  age,  healthy,  strong, 
contented,  and  happy;  and  that  I  continually  praise  the 
Divine  Majesty  for  so  much  favor  conferred  upon  me. 
Moreover,  in  the  generality  of  other  old  men  whom  I  see, 
no  sooner  have  they  arrived  at  the  age  of  seventy,  than 
they  are  ailing  and  devoid  of  strength;  melancholy;  and 
continually  occupied  with  the  thought  of  death.  They 
fear,  from  day  to  day,  that  their  last  hour  will  come;  so 
much  so,  that  it  is  impossible  for  anything  to  relieve 
their  minds  of  that  dread.  For  my  part,  I  do  not  ex- 
perience the  least  trouble  at  the  idea  of  death;  for,  as  I 
shall  later  on  explain  more  clearly,  I  cannot  bring  my- 
self to  give  it  so  much  as  a  thought. 

In  addition  to  this,  I  shall  demonstrate,  beyond 
question,  the  certainty  I  entertain  of  living  to  the  age  of 
one  hundred  years.  But,  in  order  that  I  may  proceed 
methodically,  I  shall  begin  with  the  consideration  of  man 
at  his  birth,  studying  him  thence,  step  by  step,  through 
every  stage  of  life  until  his  death. 

I  say,  then,  that  some  human  beings  are  ushered  into 
this  world  with  so  little  vitality  that  they  live  but  a  very 
few  days,  months,  or  years,  as  the  case  may  be.  The 
cause  of  this  want  of  vitality  it  is  impossible  to  know  to 
a  certainty,  whether  it  arises  from  some  imperfection  of 
the  father  or  mother,  from  the  revolutions  of  the  heavens, 
or  from  some  defect  in  Nature.  This  latter,  however, 
can  happen  only  when  she  is  subject  to  the  influence  of 
the  heavens ;  for  I  could  never  persuade  myself  to  believe 

104 


LUIGI  COENAEO^S   TBEATISE 

that  Nature,  being  the  mother  of  all,  could  be  so  ungener- 
ous to  any  of  her  children.  Hence,  not  being  able  to 
ascertain  the  real  cause,  we  must  be  content  to  accept  the 
facts  as  we  daily  observe  them. 

Others  are  born  with  greater  vitality,  yet  with  feeble 
and  poor  constitutions.  Of  these,  some  live  to  the  age 
of  ten,  others  to  twenty,  others  even  to  thirty  or  forty 
years ;  but  they  never  reach  old  age. 

Others,  again,  begin  life  with  perfect  constitutions 
and  live  to  old  age;  but  the  health  of  the  greater  part  of 
them  is,  as  I  have  said  before,  in  a  very  wretched  con- 
dition. They  are  themselves  the  sole  cause  of  this; 
simply  because,  foolishly  relying  too  much  upon  their 
perfect  natures,  they  are  unwilling,  under  any  circum- 
stances, to  modify  their  manner  of  living  when  passing 
from  youth  to  old  age,  as  though  they  still  possessed 
their  early  vigor  unimpaired.  Indeed,  they  expect  to  be 
able  to  continue  to  live  as  disorderly  a  life,  after  they 
have  begun  the  descent  of  the  hill,  as  they  did  throughout 
the  years  of  their  youth;  since  they  never  for  a  moment 
consider  that  they  are  approaching  old  age  and  that 
their  constitutions  have  lost  their  former  vigor.  Nor  do 
they  ever  pause  to  reflect  that  their  stomachs  have  lost 
their  natural  heat,  and  that  they  should,  by  reason  of  this 
circumstance,  be  more  careful  with  regard  to  quality  in 
the  selection  of  their  food  and  drink,  and  also  with  regard 
to  the  quantity  thereof,  to  lessen  it  gradually.  But  the 
latter  they  refuse  to  do;  instead  of  which,  they  attempt 
to  augment  it,  claiming  —  as  an  excuse  —  that,  since  a  man 
loses  his  strength  with  advancing  age,  the  deficiency  must 
be  made  good  by  a  greater  quantity  of  nourishment,  as  it 
is  that  which  keeps  him  alive. 

These  persons,  however,  argue  very  incorrectly. 
For,  as  the  natural  heat  of  man  gradually  diminishes  with 

105 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

the  increase  of  age,  it  becomes  necessary  for  him  to  de- 
crease gradually,  in  proportion,  the  amount  of  his  food 
and  drink;  since  nature  requires  very  little  to  maintain 
the  life  of  an  old  man.  Although  reason  should  convince 
them  that  this  is  the  case,  yet  these  men  refuse  to  admit 
it,  and  pursue  their  usual  life  of  disorder  as  heretofore. 
Were  they  to  act  differently,  abandoning  their  irregular 
habits  and  adopting  orderly  and  temperate  ones,  they 
would  live  to  old  age  —  as  I  have  —  in  good  condition. 
Being,  by  the  grace  of  God,  of  so  robust  and  perfect  consti- 
tutions, they  would  live  until  they  reached  the  age  of  a 
hundred  and  twenty,  as  history  points  out  to  us  that  others 
—  born,  of  course,  with  perfect  constitutions  —  have  done, 
who  led  the  temperate  life. 

I  am  certain  I,  too,  should  live  to  that  age,  had  it 
been  my  good  fortune  to  receive  a  similar  blessing  at  my 
birth;  but,  because  I  was  born  with  a  poor  constitution, 
I  fear  I  shall  not  live  much  beyond  a  hundred  years.  Yet 
all  those  who  are  born  delicate,  like  myself,  would  no 
doubt  reach,  in  perfect  health,  the  age  of  a  hundred  and 
more  years,  —  as  I  feel  will  be  the  case  with  me,  —  were 
they  to  embrace  the  temperate  life  as  I  have  done. 

This  certainty  of  being  able  to  live  for  many  years 
seems  to  me  of  great  value.  Indeed,  it  should  be  highly 
prized;  since  no  man  can  be  sure  of  even  one  single  hour 
of  existence  unless  he  be  one  of  those  who  follow  the 
temperate  life.  These  alone  have  solid  ground  for  their 
hopes  of  a  long  life  —  hopes  founded  upon  good  and  true 
natural  reasons  which  have  never  been  known  to  fail. 
For  it  is  impossible,  in  the  regular  course  of  nature,  that 
he  who  leads  the  orderly  and  temperate  life  should  ever 
fall  sick;  nor,  though  death  is  eventually  certain,  need 
he  ever  die  a  premature  or  an  unnatural  death.  It  is 
not  possible  that  he  should  die  earlier  than  is  occasioned 

106 


LUIGI   COBNAEO'S   TREATISE 

by  the  natural  failure  of  the  body;  for  the  temperate  life 
has  the  power  to  remove  every  cause  of  sickness;  and 
without  a  cause,  sickness  cannot  develop.  When  the  cause 
is  removed,  sickness  likewise  is  removed;  and  sickness 
being  removed,  an  unnatural  death  is  out  of  the  question. 

It  is  beyond  doubt  that  the  orderly  and  temperate 
life  has  the  power  and  strength  to  remove  the  causes 
of  illness;  for  it  is  that  which  changes,  for  the  better, 
the  humors  of  the  body  upon  which  —  according  as  they 
are  good  or  bad  —  man's  health  or  sickness,  life  or  death, 
depends.  If  these  humors  were  bad,  the  temperate  life 
has  the  natural  power  to  make  them  better  and,  in  time, 
perfect;  and,  being  able  to  make  them  so,  it  has  the  further 
power  to  maintain,  equalize,  and  unite  them  so  that  they 
cannot  become  separated,  agitated,  or  altered,  and  cause 
cruel  fevers  and,  finally,  death. 

It  is  true,  however,  —  and  this  no  one  can  reasonably 
deny,  —  that  even  though  they  be  made  ever  so  good,  yet, 
as  time  progresses,  consuming  all  things,  these  humors 
of  the  body  will  also  be  consumed  and  dissolved  at  last. 
When  they  are  thus  dissolved,  man  must  die  a  natural 
death,  —  without  pain  or  illness,  —  just  as,  in  the  course 
of  time,  I  shall  pass  away  when  the  humors  of  my  body 
shall  be  finally  consumed. 

They  are  now,  however,  all  in  good  condition.  It 
is  not  possible  they  should  be  otherwise ;  for  I  am  healthy, 
cheerful,  and  contented;  my  appetite  is  so  good  that  I 
always  eat  with  relish;  my  sleep  is  sweet  and  peaceful; 
and,  moreover,  all  my  faculties  are  in  a  condition  as 
perfect  as  ever  they  were;  my  mind  is  more  than  ever 
keen  and  clear;  my  judgment  sound;  my  memory  tena- 
cious ;  my  heart  full  of  life ;  and  my  voice  —  that  which  is 
wont  to  be  the  first  thing  in  man  to  fail  —  is  so  strong  and 
sonorous  that,  in  consequence,  I  am  obliged  to  sing  aloud 

107 


THE  AET  OP  LIVING  LONG 

my  morning  and  evening  prayers,  which  I  had  formerly 
been  accustomed  to  say  in  a  low  and  hushed  tone. 
These  are  true  and  certain  indications  that  the  humors 
of  my  body  are  all  good  and  can  never  be  consumed  save 
by  time  alone,  as  everybody  who  is  well  acquainted  with 
me  declares. 

Oh,  how  glorious  will  have  been  this  life  of  mine !  so 
full  of  all  the  happiness  that  can  be  enjoyed  in  this  world, 
and  so  free  —  as  it  truly  is  —  from  the  tyranny  of  sensu- 
ality, which,  thanks  to  my  many  years,  has  been  driven 
out  by  reason !  For,  where  reason  reigns,  no  place  is  left 
for  sensuality,  nor  for  its  bitter  fruits,  the  passions  and 
anxieties  of  the  mind  accompanied  by  a  well-nigh  endless 
train  of  afflicting  and  sorrowful  thoughts. 

As  for  the  thought  of  death,  it  can  have  no  place  in 
my  mind;  for  there  is  nothing  sensual  in  me.  Even  the 
death  of  any  of  my  grandchildren,  or  of  any  other  rela- 
tives or  friends,  could  never  cause  me  trouble  except  the 
first  instinctive  motion  of  the  soul,  which,  however,  soon 
passes  away.  How  much  less  could  I  lose  my  serenity 
through  any  loss  of  worldy  wealth !  Many  of  my  friends 
have  witnessed  this  to  their  great  astonishment.  How- 
ever, this  is  the  privilege  of  those  only  who  attain  extreme 
age  by  means  of  the  temperate  life  and  not  merely  through 
the  aid  of  a  strong  constitution ;  it  is  the  former,  not  the 
latter,  who  enjoy  every  moment  of  life,  as  I  do,  amid  con- 
tinual consolations  and  pleasures. 

And  who  would  not  enjoy  life  at  an  age  when,  as  I 
have  already  shown,  it  is  free  from  the  innumerable  mis- 
eries by  which  we  all  know  the  younger  ages  are  afflicted ! 
How  wholly  mine,  in  its  happiness,  is  free  from  these 
miseries,  I  shall  now  set  forth. 

To  begin,  the  first  of  joys  is  to  be  of  service  to  one's 
beloved  country.  Oh,  what  a  glorious  enjoyment  it  is, 
what  a  source  of  infinite  pleasure  to  me,  that  I  am  able 

108 


LUIGI  COBNARO'S  TREATISE 

to  show  Venice  the  manner  in  which  she  may  preserve 
her  valuable  lagoon  and  harbor  so  that  they  will  not  alter 
for  thousands  of  years  to  come !  Thus  she  will  continue 
to  bear  her  wonderful  and  magnificent  name  of  Virgin 
City,  which  indeed  she  is,  there  being  no  other  like  her 
in  all  the  world;  while  her  high  and  noble  title.  Queen 
of  the  Sea,  will,  by  this  means,  become  still  more  exalted. 
I  can  never  fail  to  fully  rejoice  and  take  great  comfort 
in  this. 

There  is  another  thing  which  affords  me  much  con- 
tentment; it  is,  that  I  have  shown  this  Virgin  and  Queen 
how  she  may  be  abundantly  supplied  with  food,  by  pre- 
paring for  cultivation  —  with  returns  much  above  the  ex- 
pense —  large  tracts  of  land,  marshes  as  well  as  dry  plains, 
all  hitherto  useless  and  waste. 

Another  sweet  and  unalloyed  satisfaction  I  experience 
is,  that  I  have  pointed  out  to  Venice  how  she  may  be  made 
stronger,  although  she  is  now  so  strong  as  to  be  almost 
impregnable;  how  her  loveliness  may  be  increased,  al- 
though she  is  now  so  beautiful;  how  she  may  be  made 
richer,  although  now  exceedingly  wealthy ;  and  how  her  air, 
which  is  now  so  good,  may  be  made  perfect. 

These  three  pleasures  afford  me  the  greatest  possible 
satisfaction,  because  based  wholly  upon  my  desire  to  be 
useful  to  others.  And  who  could  find  a  drawback  to  them, 
since  in  reality  none  exists ! 

Having  lost  a  considerable  portion  of  my  income 
through  misfortunes  befallen  my  grandchildren,  it  is  an- 
other source  of  happiness  to  me  that,  merely  through  the 
activity  of  my  thoughts  which  do  not  sleep,  without  any 
bodily  fatigue,  and  with  but  little  labor  of  the  mind,  I 
found  a  sure  and  unerring  way  of  repairing  —  yea,  of 
doubly  remedying  —  that  loss,  by  means  of  true  and  scien- 
tific farming. 

109 


THE  AET  OP  LIVING  LONG 

Yet  one  more  gratification  afforded  me  is  the  abun- 
dant evidence  I  receive  that  my  treatise,  "La  Vita  Sohria," 
which  I  composed  to  be  of  service  to  others,  is  really  doing 
much  good.  I  can  entertain  no  doubt  of  this ;  since  some 
tell  me,  by  word  of  mouth,  that  they  have  derived  great 
benefit  from  it  —  and  it  is  evident  they  have ;  while  others 
acknowledge  by  letter  that,  after  God,  it  is  to  me  they 
owe  their  very  lives. 

Another  great  consolation  enjoyed  by  me  is  that  of 
writing  with  my  own  hand  —  and,  to  be  of  use,  I  write  a 
great  deal  —  on  various  topics,  especially  upon  architect- 
ure and  agriculture. 

Yet  another  of  my  pleasures  consists  in  having  the 
good  fortune  to  converse  with  various  men  of  fine  and 
high  intellect,  from  whom,  even  at  my  advanced  age,  I 
never  fail  to  learn  something.  Oh,  what  a  delight  it  is 
to  feel  that,  at  this  great  age  of  mine,  it  is  no  labor  what- 
soever to  learn,  no  matter  how  great,  high,  and  difGicult 
the  subjects  may  be ! 

Furthermore,  though  it  is  a  thing  which  to  some  may, 
seem  impossible  and  in  no  manner  to  be  believed,  I  wish 
to  say  that,  in  this  extreme  age  of  mine,  I  enjoy  two 
lives  at  the  same  time:  one,  the  earthly,  which  I  possess 
in  reality;  the  other,  the  heavenly,  which  I  possess  in 
thought.  For  thought  truly  has  the  power  of  imparting 
happiness  when  it  is  grounded  upon  something  we  are 
confident  we  shall  enjoy,  as  I  do  firmly  hope  and  certainly 
believe  I  shall  enjoy  an  eternal  life  through  the  infinite 
goodness  and  mercy  of  the  great  God.  I  enjoy  this  earthly 
existence  through  the  excellence  of  the  orderly  and  tem- 
perate life,  which  is  so  pleasing  to  His  Majesty  because 
it  is  full  of  virtue  and  the  enemy  of  vice.  At  the  same 
time  I  rejoice  in  the  heavenly  one,  which  God  has  given 

110 


LUIGI   CORNARO^S   TREATISE 

me  now  to  enjoy  in  thought;  for  He  has  taken  from  me 
the  power  to  think  of  it  differently,  so  sure  am  I  to 
possess  it  some  day. 

And  I  hold  that  our  departure  from  this  world  is 
not  death,  but  merely  a  passage  which  the  soul  makes 
from  this  earthly  life  to  the  heavenly  one,  immortal  and 
infinitely  perfect  —  a  belief  which  I  am  sure  cannot  but 
be  the  tiue  one. 

Hence  my  thoughts  are  raised  to  heights  so  sublime 
that  they  cannot  descend  to  the  consideration  of  such 
worldly  and  common  occurrences  as  the  death  of  the  body, 
but,  rather,  are  wholly  absorbed  in  living  the  heavenly 
and  divine  life.  In  this  manner  it  comes  to  pass  that, 
as  I  said  before,  1  incessantly  enjoy  two  lives.  And  I 
shall  not  feel  any  regret  on  account  of  the  great  happiness 
I  have  in  this  earthly  life,  when  that  life  shall  cease;  for 
then  my  joy  will  be  boundless,  knowing,  as  I  do,  that  the 
ending  of  this  life  is  but  the  beginning  of  another,  glorious 
and  immortal. 

Who  could  ever  find  weariness  in  a  lot  so  truly 
blessed  and  happy  as  the  one  I  enjoy!  Yet  this  happi- 
ness would  be  the  portion  of  every  man  if  he  would  but 
lead  a  life  similar  to  the  one  I  have  led.  And,  assuredly, 
it  is  in  every  man's  power  to  lead  such  a  life;  for  I  am 
nothing  but  a  man  and  not  a  saint,  only  a  servant  of 
God,  to  Whom  the  orderly  life  is  well-pleasing. 

There  are  many  men  who  embrace  a  holy  and  beau- 
tiful, spiritual  and  contemplative  life,  full  of  prayer.  Oh, 
were  they  faithful  followers  also  of  the  orderly  and  tem- 
I)erate  life,  how  much  more  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God 
would  they  render  themselves,  and  how  much  more  beau- 
tiful would  they  make  the  world !  They  would  be  esteemed 
as  highly  as  were  those,  who,  in  ancient  times,  added  the 
practice  of  the  temperate  life  to  that  of  the  spiritual. 

Ill 


THE   ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

Like  them,  they  would  live  to  the  age  of  one  hundred 
and  twenty;  and,  by  the  power  of  God,  they  would  per- 
form countless  miracles,  just  as  those  others  did.  Fur- 
thermore, they  would  constantly  enjoy  a  healthy,  happy, 
and  cheerful  life;  whereas  they  are  at  present,  for  the 
greater  part,  unhealthy,  melancholy,  and  dissatisfied. 

Since  some  of  them  believe  that  these  afflictions  are 
sent  them  by  the  great  God  for  their  salvation,  —  that  they 
may,  in  this  life,  make  reparation  for  their  sins,  —  I  can- 
not refrain  from  saying  that,  according  to  my  judgment, 
these  persons  are  mistaken;  for  I  cannot  believe  God 
deems  it  good  that  man,  whom  He  so  much  loves,  should 
be  sickly,  melancholy,  and  discontented.  I  believe,  on  the 
contrary,  that  He  wishes  him  to  be  healthy,  cheerful,  and 
contented,  precisely  as  those  holy  men  in  ancient  times 
were;  who,  becoming  ever  better  servants  of  His  Majesty, 
performed  the  many  and  beautiful  miracles  of  which  we 
read. 

Oh,  what  a  lovely  and  enjoyable  place  this  world 
would  be  —  even  more  so  than  it  was  in  the  olden  times ! 
For  there  are  now  many  Orders  which  then  did  not  exist,  in 
which,  if  the  temperate  life  were  followed,  we  might  see  so 
many  venerable  old  men;  and  a  wonderful  sight  it  would 
be.  Nor  would  they,  in  the  practice  of  the  temperate  life, 
deviate  from  the  regular  rules  of  living  enjoined  by  their 
Orders;  on  the  contrary,  they  would  improve  upon  them. 
For  every  Order  allows  its  members,  in  the  way  of  fare, 
to  eat  bread  and  drink  wine,  and,  in  addition  to  that,  some- 
times to  take  eggs.  Some  Orders  allow  even  meat,  besides 
vegetable  soups,  salads,  fruits,  and  pastries  made  with 
eggs  —  foods  which  often  harm  them,  and  to  some  are  a 
cause  of  death.  They  make  use  of  these  because  allowed 
to  do  so  by  their  Orders,  thinking,  perhaps,  they  would  be 
doing  wrong  were  they  to  abstain  from  them.  But  it 
would  not  be  wrong  at  all;  indeed,  they  would  act  more 

112 


LUIGI   CORNABO^S   TREATISE 

properly,  if,  after  they  have  passed  the  age  of  thirty,  they 
were  to  give  up  the  use  of  such  foods,  and  live  solely  upon 
bread  dipped  in  wine,  bread  soup,  and  eggs  with  bread  — 
the  true  diet  to  preserve  the  life  of  a  man  of  poor  consti- 
tution. It  would  be,  after  all,  a  rule  less  severe  than  that 
of  those  holy  men  of  old  in  the  deserts;  who,  subsisting 
entirely  upon  wild  fruits  and  roots  of  herbs,  and  drinking 
nothing  but  pure  water,  lived,  as  I  have  said,  many  years, 
and  were  always  healthy,  cheerful,  and  contented.  So, 
also,  would  these  of  our  own  day  be,  were  they  to  follow 
the  temperate  life.  And,  at  the  same  time,  they  would 
more  easily  find  the  way  to  ascend  to  heaven,  which  is  al- 
ways open  to  every  faithful  Christian ;  for  thus  it  was  our 
Redeemer  left  it  when  He  descended  thence  coming  upon 
earth  that  He  might  shed  His  precious  blood  to  deliver  us 
from  the  tyrannical  servitude  of  the  devil  —  all  of  which 
He  did  through  His  infinite  goodness. 

In  conclusion,  I  wish  to  say  that,  since  old  age  is  — 
as,  in  truth,  it  is  —  filled  and  overflowing  with  so  many 
graces  and  blessings,  and  since  I  am  one  of  the  number 
who  enjoy  them,  I  cannot  fail  —  not  wishing  to  be  wanting 
in  charity  —  to  give  testimony  to  the  fact,  and  to  fully 
certify  to  all  men  that  my  enjoyment  is  much  greater  than 
I  can  now  express  in  writing.  I  declare  that  I  have  no 
other  motive  for  writing  but  my  hope  that  the  knowledge 
of  so  great  a  blessing  as  my  old  age  has  proved  to  be,  will 
induce  every  human  being  to  determine  to  adopt  this 
praiseworthy  orderly  and  temperate  life,  in  favor  of  which 
I  ceaselessly  keep  repeating,  Live,  live,  that  you  may  be- 
come better  servants  of  God ! 


113 


\i 


0  Luxury !  thou  curst  hy  Heaven's  decree, 
How  ill  exchang'd  are  things  like  these  for  thee  ! 
How  do  thy  potions,  with  insidious  joy, 
Diffuse  their  pleasures  only  to  destroy! 
Kingdoms  hy  thee,  to  sickly  greatness  grown, 
Boast  of  a  florid  vigor  not  their  own: 
At  every  draught  more  large  and  large  they  grow, 
A  bloated  mass  of  rank  unwieldy  woe; 
Till  sapp'd  their  strength,  and  every  part  unsound, 
Down,  down  they  sink,  and  spread  a  ruin  round. 

— Oliver  Goldsmith. 


PART  II 


SELECTIONS 


LORD  BACON'S 


"History  of  Life  and  Death' 


▲17D  FBOM 


SIR  WILLIAM  TEMPLE'S 


"Health  and  Long  Life' 


The  first  physicians  hy  debauch  were  made; 
Excess  began  and  sloth  sustains  the  trade. 
By  chase  our  long-lived  fathers  eam'd  their  food; 
Toil  strung  the  nerves,  and  purified  the  blood; 
Bui  we  their  sons,  a  pamper' d  race  of  men. 
Are  dwindled  down  to  threescore  years  and  ten. 
Better  to  hunt  in  fields  for  health  unbought 
Than  fee  the  doctor  for  a  navLseous  draught. 
The  wise  for  cure  on  exercise  depend: 
God  never  made  his  work  for  man  to  mend. 

— John  Dryden. 


SELECTIONS 


LORD  BACON'S 


"History  of  Life  and  Death' 


Bto.' 


T 


o  THE  Present  Age,  and  Postbbity. 
Greeting  : 


I  have  hope,  and  wish,  that  it  [the  "History 
of  Life  and  Death"]  may  conduce  to  a  common 
good ;  and  that  the  nobler  sort  of  physicians  will  advance 
their  thoughts,  and  not  employ  their  time  wholly  in  the 
sordidness  of  cures ;  neither  be  honored  for  necessity  only ; 
but  that  they  will  become  coadjutors  and  instruments  of 
the  Divine  omnipotence  and  clemency  in  prolonging  and 
renewing  the  life  of  man.  For  though  we  Christians  do 
continually  aspire  and  pant  after  the  land  of  promise,  yet 

•See  Note  C 

117 


THE  ART  OP  UVING  LONG 

it  will  be  a  token  of  God's  favor  toward  us  in  our  journey- 
ings  through  this  world's  wilderness,  to  have  our  shoes  and 
garments  —  I  mean  those  of  our  frail  bodies  —  little  worn 
or  impaired. 

Fb.  St.  Albans. 

Men  fear  death,  as  children  fear  to  go  into  the  dark ; 
and  as  that  natural  fear  in  children  is  increased  with 
tales,  so  is  the  other.  Certainly,  the  contemplation  of 
death,  as  the  wages  of  sin,  and  passage  to  another  world, 
is  holy  and  religious;  but  the  fear  of  it,  as  a  tribute  due 
unto  nature,  is  weak.  It  is  as  natural  to  die  as  to  be  born. 
He  that  dies  in  an  earnest  pursuit,  is  like  one  that  is 
wounded  in  hot  blood ;  who,  for  the  time,  scarce  feels  the 
hurt ;  and  therefore  a  mind  fixed  and  bent  upon  somewhat 
that  is  good,  doth  avert  the  dolors  of  death.  It  will  be 
hard  to  know  the  ways  of  death,  unless  we  search  out  and 
discover  the  seat  or  house,  or  rather  den,  of  death. 

Truth,  which  only  doth  judge  itself,  teacheth  that  the 
inquiry  of  truth,  which  is  the  love-making  or  wooing  of  it, 
the  knowledge  of  truth,  which  is  the  presence  of  it,  and 
the  belief  of  truth,  which  is  the  enjoying  of  it,  is  the  sover- 
eign good  of  human  nature.  Certainly,  it  is  heaven  upon 
earth,  to  have  a  man's  mind  move  in  charity,  rest  in  provi- 
dence, and  turn  upon  the  poles  of  truth. 

Man,  the  servant  and  interpreter  of  nature,  does  and 
understands  as  much  as  he  has  actually  or  mentally 
observed  of  the  order  of  nature  —  himself,  meanwhile,  in- 
closed around  by  the  laws  of  nature ;  he  neither  knows  nor 
can  do  more.  The  limit,  therefore,  of  human  power  and 
knowledge  is  in  the  faculties,  with  which  man  is  endowed 
by  nature  for  moving  and  perceiving,  as  well  as  in  the 
state  of  present  things.  These  faculties,  though  of  them- 
selves weak  and  inept,  are  yet  capable,  when  properly  and 

118 


SELECTIONS   FROM   BACON 

regularly  managed,  of  setting  before  the  judgment  and  use 
things  most  remote  from  sense  and  action,  and  of  overcom- 
ing greater  difficulty  of  works  and  obscurity  of  knowledge 
than  any  one  hath  yet  learned  to  wish. 

Men  see  clearly,  like  owls,  in  the  night  of  their  own 
notions;  but,  in  experience,  as  in  the  daylight,  they  wink 
and  are  but  half-sighted.  I  should  wish  to  have  Para- 
celsus and  Severinus  for  criers,  when,  with  such  clamors, 
they  convoke  men  to  the  suggestions  of  experience. 

It  appears  to  me  that  men  know  not  either  their  ac- 
quirements or  their  powers,  and  trust  too  much  to  the 
former,  and  too  little  to  the  latter.  Hence  it  arises,  that, 
either  estimating  the  arts  they  have  become  acquainted 
with  at  an  absurd  value,  they  require  nothing  more;  or, 
forming  too  low  an  opinion  of  themselves,  they  waste  their 
powers  on  trivial  objects,  without  attempting  anything 
to  the  purpose.  The  sciences  have  thus  their  own  pillars, 
fixed  as  it  were  by  fate;  since  men  are  not  roused  to  pene- 
trate beyond  them  either  by  zeal  or  hope.  All  sciences 
seem,  even  now,  to  flourish  most  in  their  first  authors  — 
Aristotle,  Galen,  Euclid,  and  Ptolemy;  succession  having 
not  effected,  nay,  barely  attempted,  any  great  matter.  Men, 
therefore,  are  to  be  admonished  to  rouse  up  their  spirits, 
and  try  their  strengths  and  turns,  and  not  refer  all  to  the 
opinions  and  brains  of  a  few.  Even  those  who  have  been 
determined  to  try  for  themselves,  to  add  their  support  to 
learning,  and  to  enlarge  its  limits,  have  not  dared  entirely 
to  desert  received  opinions  nor  to  seek  the  springhead  of 
things.  Yet  there  have  not  been  wanting  some,  who,  with 
greater  daring,  have  considered  everything  open  to  them ; 
and,  employing  the  force  of  their  wit,  have  opened  a  pas- 
sage for  themselves  and  their  dogmas  by  prostrating  and 
destroying  all  before  them. 

119 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING   LONG 

Power  to  do  good  is  the  true  and  lawful  end  of  aspir- 
ing; for  good  thoughts  —  though  God  accept  them  — 
toward  men  are  little  better  than  good  dreams,  except  they 
be  put  in  act. 

The  greatest  trust  between  man  and  man  is  the  trust 
of  giving  counsel.  Heraclitus  saith  well  in  one  of  his 
enigmas,  "Dry  light  is  ever  the  hest" ;  and  certain  it  is,  that 
the  light  that  a  man  receiveth  by  counsel  from  another,  is 
drier  and  purer  than  that  which  cometh  from  his  own  un- 
derstanding and  judgment,  which  is  ever  infused  and 
drenched  in  his  affections  and  customs ;  so  there  is  as  much 
difference  between  the  counsel  that  a  friend  giveth,  and 
that  a  man  giveth  himself,  as  there  is  between  the  counsel 
of  a  friend  and  of  a  flatterer ;  for  there  is  no  such  flatterer 
as  is  a  man's  self,  and  there  is  no  such  remedy  against 
flattery  of  a  man's  self  as  the  liberty  of  a  friend.  The  best 
preservative  to  keep  the  mind  in  health  is  the  faithful  ad- 
monition of  a  friend.  It  is  a  strange  thing  to  behold  what 
gross  errors  and  extreme  absurdities  many  do  commit,  for 
want  of  a  friend  to  tell  them  of  them,  to  the  great  damage 
both  of  their  fame  and  fortune. 

The  help  of  good  counsel  is  that  which  setteth  busi- 
ness straight.  The  wisest  princes  need  not  think  it  any 
diminution  to  their  greatness,  or  derogation  to  their  suf- 
ficiency, to  rely  upon  counsel.  Solomon  hath  pronounced 
that,  "In  counsel  is  stability/^  Solomon's  son  found  the 
force  of  counsel,  as  his  father  saw  the  necessity  of  it. 

It  hath  been  noted  that  those  who  ascribe  openly  too 
much  to  their  own  wisdom  and  policy,  end  unfortunate. 
He  that  questioneth  much,  shall  learn  much  and  content 
much  —  especially  if  he  apply  his  questions  to  the  skill  of 
the  persons  whom  he  asketh ;  for  he  shall  give  them  occa- 
sion to  please  themselves  in  speaking,  and  himself  shall 
continually  gather  knowledge.     Set  before  thee  the  best 

120 


SELECTIONS   FROM   BACON 

examples ;  for  imitation  is  a  globe  of  precepts.  Ask  counsel 
of  both  times:  of  the  ancienter  time  what  is  best,  and  of 
the  latter  time  what  is  fittest.  Do  not  drive  away  such  as 
bring  thee  information,  as  meddlers ;  but  accept  of  them  in 
good  part.  Always,  when  thou  changest  thine  opinion  or 
course,  profess  it  plainly,  and  declare  it,  together  with  the 
reasons  that  move  thee  to  change. 

This  is  a  true  and  grave  admonition,  that  we  expect 
not  to  receive  things  necessary  for  life  and  manners  from 
philosophical  abstractions,  but  from  the  discreet  obser- 
vation and  experience,  and  the  universal  knowledge,  of 
the  things  of  this  world.  The  shame  it  is,  that  men,  hav- 
ing the  use  of  so  many  arts,  are  not  able  to  get  unto 
themselves  such  things  as  nature  itself  bestows  upon  many 
other  creatures !  Whosoever  doth  thoroughly  consider  the 
nature  of  man,  may  be  in  a  manner  the  contriver  of  his 
own  fortune,  and  is  born  to  command. 

It  is  an  ancient  saying  and  complaint  that  ''Life  is 
short  and  art  long" ;  wherefore  it  behooveth  us,  who  make 
it  our  chiefest  aim  to  perfect  arts,  to  take  upon  us  the 
consideration  of  prolonging  man's  life  —  God,  the  author 
of  all  truth  and  life,  prospering  our  endeavors.  Only  the 
inquiry  is  difficult  how  to  attain  this  blessing  of  long  life, 
so  often  promised  in  the  old  law ;  and  so  much  the  rather, 
because  it  is  corrupted  with  false  opinions  and  vain  re- 
ports. Verily,  it  were  a  great  sin  against  the  golden 
fortune  of  mankind,  the  pledge  of  empire,  for  me  to  turn 
aside  to  the  pursuit  of  most  fleeting  shadows.  One  bright 
and  radiant  light  of  truth  must  be  placed  in  the  midst, 
which  may  illuminate  the  whole,  and  in  a  moment  dispel 
all  errors.  Certain  feeble  and  pale  lamps  are  not  to  be 
carried  round  to  the  several  corners  and  holes  of  errors 
and  falsehoods. 

We  ingeniously  profess  that  some  of  those  things 

121 


THE  ART  OP  UVIN6  LONG 

which  we  shall  propound,  have  not  been  tried  by  us  by 
way  of  experiment,  —  for  our  course  of  life  doth  not  per- 
mit that,  —  but  are  derived,  as  we  suppose,  upon  good 
reasons,  out  of  our  principles  and  grounds,  —  of  which 
some  we  set  down,  others  we  reserve  in  our  mind,  —  and 
are,  as  it  were,  cut  and  digged  out  of  the  rock  and  mine 
of  Nature  herself.  Nevertheless,  we  have  been  careful, 
and  that  with  all  providence  and  circumspection,  —  seeing 
the  Scripture  saith  of  the  body  of  man,  that  it  is  more 
worth  than  raiment,  —  to  propound  such  remedies  as  may 
at  least  be  safe,  if  peradventure  they  be  not  fruitful. 

All  things  in  living  creatures  are  in  their  youth  re- 
paired entirely ;  nay,  they  are  for  a  time  increased  in  quan- 
tity, bettered  in  quality,  so  as  the  matter  of  reparation 
might  be  eternal,  if  the  manner  of  reparation  did  not  fail. 
But  this  is  the  truth  of  it :  there  is  in  the  declining  of  age 
an  unequal  reparation.  By  which  it  comes  to  pass,  that, 
in  process  of  time,  the  whole  tends  to  dissolution ;  and  even 
those  very  parts  which,  in  their  own  nature,  are  with  much 
ease  reparable,  yet,  through  the  decay  of  the  organs  of 
reparation,  can  no  more  receive  reparation,  but  decline, 
and  in  the  end  utterly  fail.  And  the  cause  of  the  termina- 
tion of  life  is  this:  the  spirits,  like  a  gentle  flame,  con- 
tinually preying  upon  bodies,  conspiring  with  the  outward 
air,  —  which  is  ever  sucking  and  drying  of  them,  —  do,  in 
time,  destroy  the  whole  fabric  of  the  body,  as  also  the 
particular  engines  and  organs  thereof,  and  make  them  un- 
able for  the  work  of  reparation.  These  are  the  true  ways 
of  natural  death,  well  and  faithfully  to  be  revolved  in  our 
minds ;  for  he  that  knows  not  the  way  of  nature,  how  can 
he  succor  her  or  turn  her  about? 

We  see  the  reign  or  tyranny  of  custom,  what  it  is. 
Men's  thoughts  are  much  according  to  their  inclination; 
their  discourse  and  speeches  according  to  their  learning 

122 


SELECTIONS  FROM  BACON. 

and  infused  opinions;  but  their  deeds  are  after  as  they 
have  been  accustomed.  Therefore,  as  Machiavel  well 
noteth,  there  is  no  trusting  to  the  force  of  nature,  nor  to 
the  bravery  of  words,  except  it  be  corroborate  by  custom. 
Nature  is  often  hidden,  sometimes  overcome,  seldom  ex- 
tinguished. But  custom,  only,  doth  alter  and  subdue 
nature.  He  that  seeketh  victory  over  his  nature,  let  him 
not  set  himself  too  great  nor  too  small  tasks;  for  the  first 
will  make  him  dejected  by  often  failing,  and  the  second 
will  make  him  a  small  proceeder  —  though  by  often  pre- 
vailing. Where  nature  is  mighty  and,  therefore,  the  vic- 
tory hard,  the  degrees  had  need  be :  first,  to  stay  and  arrest 
nature  in  time  —  like  to  him  that  would  say  over  the  four- 
and-twenty  letters  when  he  was  angry ;  then,  to  go  less  in 
quantity  —  as  if  one  should,  in  forbearing  wine,  come  from 
drinking  healths  to  a  draught  at  a  meal ;  and,  lastly,  to  dis- 
continue altogether ;  but  if  a  man  have  the  fortitude  and 
resolution  to  enfranchise  himself  at  once,  that  is  the  best. 
But  let  not  a  man  trust  his  victory  over  his  nature  too  far ; 
for  nature  will  lie  buried  a  great  time,  and  yet  revive  upon 
the  occasion,  or  temptation;  like  as  it  was  with  JEsop's 
damsel,  turned  from  a  cat  to  a  woman,  who  sat  very  de- 
murely at  the  board's  end  till  a  mouse  ran  before  her. 

The  predominancy  of  custom  is  everywhere  visible; 
insomuch  as  a  man  would  wonder  to  hear  men  profess, 
protest,  engage,  give  great  words,  and  then  do  just  as  they 
have  done  before,  as  if  they  were  dead  images  and  engines, 
moved  only  by  the  wheels  of  custom.  A  man's  nature  runs 
either  to  herbs  or  weeds;  therefore  let  him  seasonably 
water  the  one,  and  destroy  the  other.  Neither  is  the 
ancient  rule  amiss,  to  bend  nature  as  a  wand  to  a  contrary 
extreme,  whereby  to  set  it  right;  understanding  it  where 
the  contrary  extreme  is  no  vice.  Many  examples  may  be 
put  of  the  force  of  custom,  both  upon  mind  and  body; 

123 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING   LONG 

therefore,  since  custom  is  the  principal  magistrate  of 
man's  life,  let  men  by  all  means  endeavor  to  obtain  good 
customs.  Certainly,  custom  is  most  perfect  when  it  be- 
ginneth  in  young  years;  this  we  call  education,  which  is, 
in  effect,  but  an  early  custom. 

To  procure  long  life,  the  body  of  man  must  be  con- 
sidered. The  ancients  seemed  not  to  despair  of  attaining 
the  skill,  by  means  and  medicines,  to  put  off  old  age,  and 
to  prolong  life ;  but  this  to  be  numbered  rather  among  such 
things,  having  been  once  happily  attained  unto,  are  now  — 
through  men's  negligence  and  carelessness — utterly  per- 
ished and  lost,  than  among  such  as  have  been  always 
denied  and  never  granted ;  for  they  signify  and  show  that 
the  divine  bounty  is  not  wanting  unto  men  in  the  ob- 
taining of  such  gifts.  Surely  every  medicine  is  an  innova- 
tion ;  and  he  that  will  not  apply  new  remedies  must  expect 
new  evils ;  for  time  is  the  greatest  innovator.  And  if  time, 
of  course,  alter  things  to  the  worse,  and  wisdom  and  coun- 
sel shall  not  alter  them  to  the  better,  what  shall  be  the 
end? 

The  nature  of  the  spirits  is  as  the  uppermost  wheel, 
which  turneth  about  the  other  wheels  in  the  body  of  man ; 
and,  therefore,  in  the  intention  of  long  life,  that  ought  to 
be  first  placed.  Age  is  nothing  of  itself,  being  only  the 
measure  of  time ;  that  which  causeth  the  effect  is  the  native 
spirit  of  bodies,  which  sucketh  up  the  moisture  of  the 
body,  and  then,  together  with  it,  flieth  forth;  and  the  air 
ambient,  which  multiplieth  itself  upon  the  native  spirits 
and  juices  of  the  body,  and  preyeth  upon  them.  The  spirits 
are  the  master  workmen  of  all  effects  in  the  body;  this 
is  manifest  by  consent,  and  by  infinite  instances.  The 
actions  or  functions  which  are  in  the  several  members, 
follow  the  nature  of  the  members  themselves,  —  attrac- 
tion, retention,  digestion,  assimilation,  separation,  excre- 
tion, perspiration,  even  sense  itself, —   according  to  the 

124 


SELECTIONS   FROM   BACON 

propriety  of  the  several  organs ;  yet  none  of  these  actions 
would  ever  have  been  actuated,  but  by  the  vigor  and  pres- 
ence of  the  vital  spirit,  and  heat  thereof.  The  operation 
upon  the  spirits,  and  their  waxing  green  again,  is  the 
most  ready  and  compendious  way  to  long  life. 

It  conduceth  unto  long  life,  and  to  the  more  placid 
motion  of  the  spirits,  which  thereby  do  less  prey  and 
consume  the  juice  of  the  body,  either  that  men's  actions 
be  free  and  voluntary,  or,  on  the  other  side,  that  their 
actions  be  full  of  regulation  and  commands  within  them- 
selves; for  then  the  victory  and  performing  of  the  com- 
mand giveth  a  good  disposition  to  the  spirits,  especially 
if  there  be  a  proceeding  from  degree  to  degree;  for  then 
the  sense  of  the  victory  is  the  greater.  An  example  of 
the  former  of  these  is  in  a  country  life ;  and  of  the  latter 
in  monks  and  philosophers,  and  such  as  do  continually 
enjoin  themselves.  The  spirits,  to  keep  the  body  fresh 
and  green,  are  so  to  be  wrought  and  tempered  that  they 
may  be  in  substance  dense,  not  rare;  in  heat  strong,  not 
eager;  in  quantity  sufficient  for  the  offices  of  life,  not 
redundant  or  turgid;  in  motion  appeased,  not  dancing  or 
unequal.  It  is  to  be  seen  in  flames,  that  the  bigger  they 
are,  the  stronger  they  break  forth,  and  the  more  speedily 
they  consume.  And,  therefore,  overgreat  plenty,  or  exu- 
berance of  the  spirits,  is  altogether  hurtful  to  long  life; 
neither  need  one  wish  a  greater  store  of  spirits,  than  what 
is  sufficient  for  the  functions  of  life  and  the  office  of  a 
good  reparation. 

The  living  spirit  stands  in  need  of  three  things  that 
it  may  subsist:  convenient  motion,  temperate  refrigera- 
tion, and  fit  aliment.  We  suppose  all  things  in  modera- 
tion to  be  best. 

No  body  can  be  healthy  without  exercise,  neither 
natural  body  nor  politic.     It  is  altogether  requisite  to 

125 


THE   ART  OF  LIVING   LONG 

long  life,  that  the  body  should  never  abide  long  in  one 
posture;  but  that  every  half-hour,  at  least,  it  change  the 
posture,  saving  only  in  sleep.  As  for  exercise,  an  idle 
life  doth  manifestly  make  the  flesh  soft  and  dissipable; 
robust  exercise,  so  it  be  without  overmuch  sweating  or 
weariness,  maketh  it  hard  and  compact.  Also  exercise 
within  cold  water,  as  swimming,  is  very  good;  and,  gen- 
erally, exercise  abroad  is  better  than  that  within  houses. 
Exercises  which  stir  up  a  good  strong  motion,  but  not 
overswift,  or  to  our  utmost  strength,  do  not  hurt,  but 
rather  benefit. 

Men  ought  to  beware  that  they  use  not  exercise  and 
a  spare  diet  both;  but  if  much  exercise,  then  a  plentiful 
diet;  and  if  sparing  diet,  then  little  exercise.  The  bene- 
fits that  come  of  exercise  are:  first,  that  it  sendeth  nour- 
ishment into  the  parts  more  forcibly;  secondly,  that  it 
helpeth  to  excern  by  sweat,  and  so  maketh  the  parts 
assimilate  the  more  perfectly;  thirdly,  that  it  maketh  the 
substance  of  the  body  more  solid  and  compact,  and  so 
less  apt  to  be  consumed  and  depredated  by  the  spirits. 

That  exercise  may  resolve  either  the  spirits  or  the 
juices  as  little  as  may  be,  it  is  necessary  that  it  be  used, 
when  the  stomach  is  not  altogether  empty;  and,  there- 
fore, that  it  may  not  be  used  upon  a  full  stomach,  —  which 
doth  much  concern  health,  —  nor  yet  upon  an  empty 
stomach,  —  which  doth  no  less  concern  long  life,  —  it  is 
best  to  take  a  breakfast  in  the  morning,  of  plain  meat  and 
drink ;  yet  that  very  light,  and.  in  moderate  quantity. 

Both  exercise  and  frications  conduce  much  to  long 
life ;  for  agitation  doth  fineliest  diffuse  and  commix  things 
by  small  portions.  But  in  exercise  and  frications  there 
is  the  same  reason  and  caution,  that  the  body  may  not 
perspire  or  exhale  too  much.  Therefore,  exercise  is  bet- 
ter in  the  open  air  than  in  the  house,  and  better  in  win- 
ter than   in  summer.     Gentle   frications,  and  moderate 

126 


SELECTIONS   FROM   BACON 

exercises,  causing  rather  perspiration  than  sweating,  con- 
duce much  to  long  life.  But,  generally,  exercise,  if  it  be 
much,  is  no  friend  to  prolongation  of  life;  which  is  one 
cause  why  women  live  longer  than  men,  because  they  stir 
less.* 

Eefrigeration,  or  cooling  of  the  body,  which  passeth 
some  other  ways  than  by  the  stomach,  is  useful  for  long 
life.  The  reason  is  at  hand:  for  seeing  a  refrigeration 
not  temperate,  but  powerful, —  especially  of  the  blood,  — 
is  above  all  things  necessary  to  long  life,  this  can  by  no 
means  be  effected  from  within  as  much  as  is  requisite, 
without  the  destruction  of  the  stomach  and  bowels. 

The  body  of  man  doth  regularly  require  renovation 
by  aliment  every  day,  and  a  body  in  health  can  scarce 
endure  fasting  three  days  together;  notwithstanding,  use 
and  custom  will  do  much,  even  in  this  case;  but  in  sick- 
ness, fasting  is  less  grievous  to  the  body.  We  would  have 
men  rightly  to  observe  and  distinguish,  that  those  things 
which  are  good  for  a  healthful  life,  are  not  always  good 
for  a  long  life ;  for  there  are  some  things  which  do  further 
the  alacrity  of  the  spirits,  and  the  strength  and  vigor  of 
the  functions,  which,  notwithstanding,  do  cut  off  from  the 
sum  of  life.  It  is  hard  to  distinguish  that  which  is  gen- 
erally held  good  and  wholesome,  from  that  which  is  good 
particularly,  and  fit  for  thine  own  body.  It  doth  no  good 
to  have  the  aliment  ready,  in  a  degree  removed,  but  to 
have  it  of  that  kind,  and  so  prepared  and  supplied,  that 
the  spirit  may  work  upon  it ;  for  the  staff  of  a  torch  alone 
will  not  maintain  the  flame,  unless  it  be  fed  with  wax; 
neither  can  men  live  upon  herbs  alone.  Nourishment 
ought  to  be  of  an  inferior  nature  and  more  simple  sub- 
stances than  the  thing  nourished.  Plants  are  nourished 
with  the  earth  and  water,  living  creatures  with  plants, 
man  with  living  creatures.    There  are  also  certain  creatures 

♦  See  Note  A 

127 


THE  ART   01'   LIVING   LONG 

feeding  upon  flesh;  and  man  himself  takes  plants  into  a 
part  of  his  nourishment. 

The  stomach  —  which,  as  they  say,  is  the  master  of 
the  house,  and  whose  strength  and  goodness  is  funda- 
mental to  the  other  concoctions  —  ought  so  to  be  guarded 
and  confirmed  that  it  may  be  without  intemperateness 
hot;  it  is  to  be  kept  ever  in  appetite,  because  appetite 
sharpens  digestion.  This  also  is  most  certain,  that  the 
brain  is  in  some  sort  in  the  custody  of  the  stomach ;  and, 
therefore,  those  things  which  comfort  and  strengthen  the 
stomach,  do  help  the  brain  by  consent.  I  do  verily  con- 
ceive it  good  that  the  first  draught  be  taken  at  supper, 
warm.  I  knew  a  physician  that  was  very  famous;  who, 
in  the  beginning  of  dinner  and  supper,  would  usually  eat 
a  few  spoonfuls  of  very  warm  broth  with  much  greedi- 
ness, and  then  would  presently  wish  that  it  were  out  again, 
saying  he  had  no  need  of  the  broth,  but  only  of  the  warmth. 

A  pythagorical  or  monastical  diet,  according  to  strict 
rules,  and  always  exactly  equal  —  as  that  of  Cornaro  was, 
—  seemeth  to  be  very  effectual  for  long  life.  If  there 
were  anything  eminent  in  the  Spartans,  that  was  to  be 
imputed  to  the  parsimony  of  their  diet.  It  is  not  more 
true,  that  ^^Many  dishes  have  caused  many  diseases/'  —  as 
the  proverb  is,  —  than  this  is  true,  that  many  medicines 
have  caused  few  cures. 

It  seems  to  be  approved  by  experience,  that  a  spare 
diet,  and  almost  a  pythagorical,  —  such  as  is  either  pre- 
scribed by  the  strict  rules  of  a  monastical  life,  or  prac- 
ticed by  hermits,  which  have  necessity  and  poverty  for 
their  rule,  —  rendereth  a  man  long-lived.  Celsus,  who 
was  not  only  a  learned  physician,  but  a  wise  man,  is  not 
to  be  omitted,  who  adviseth  interchanging  and  alterna- 
tion of  the  diet,  but  still  with  an  inclination  to  the  more 
benign.     Conservation  of  health  hath  commonly  need  of 

128 


SELECTIONS   FEOM   BACON 

no  more  than  some  short  courses  of  physic;  but  length 
of  life  cannot  be  hoped  without  an  orderly  diet. 

Curing  of  diseases  is  effected  by  temporary  medicines; 
but  lengthening  of  life  requireth  observation  of  diets. 
Those  things  which  come  by  accident,  as  soon  as  the 
causes  are  removed,  cease  again ;  but  the  continual  course 
of  nature,  like  a  running  river,  requires  a  continual  row- 
ing and  sailing  against  the  stream.  Therefore  we  must 
work  regularly  by  diets.  Now,  diets  are  of  two  kinds :  set 
diets,  which  are  to  be  observed  at  certain  times;  and 
familiar  diet,  which  is  to  be  admitted  into  our  daily  re- 
past. But  the  set  diets  are  the  more  potent;  for  those 
things  which  are  of  so  great  virtue  that  they  are  able  to 
turn  nature  back  again,  are,  for  the  most  part,  more  strong, 
and  more  speedily  altering,  than  those  which  may  without 
danger  be  received  into  a  continual  use. 

Certainly  this  is  without  all  question:  diet,  well 
ordered,  bears  the  greatest  part  in  the  prolongation  of 
life.  But  if  the  diet  shall  not  be  altogether  so  rigorous 
and  mortifying,  yet,  notwithstanding,  shall  be  always  equal 
and  constant  to  itself,  it  worketh  the  same  effect.  We  see 
it  in  flames,  that  a  flame  somewhat  bigger  —  so  it  be  al- 
ways alike  and  quiet  —  consumeth  less  of  the  fuel,  than  a 
lesser  flame  blown  with  bellows,  and  by  gusts  stronger  or 
weaker.  That  which  the  regimen  and  diet  of  Cornaro,  the 
Venetian,  showed  plainly;  who  did  eat  and  drink  so  many 
years  together  by  a  Just  weight,  whereby  he  exceeded  a 
hundred  years  of  age,  strong  in  limbs,  and  entire  in  his 
senses. 

I  am  of  opinion,  that  emaciating  diseases,  afterward 
well  cured,  have  advanced  many  in  the  way  of  long  life; 
for  they  yield  new  juice,  the  old  being  consumed ;  and  to 
recover  a  sickness  is  to  renew  youth.  Therefore  it  were 
good  to  make  some  artificial  diseases,  which  is  done  by 
strict  and  emaciating  diets. 

129 


THE  ABT  OF  LIVING  LONG 

We  see  that  all  things  which  are  done  by  nutrition 
ask  a  long  time;  but  those  which  are  done  by  embracing  of 
the  like  —  as  it  is  in  infusions  —  require  no  long  time. 
Therefore,  alimentation  from  without  would  be  of  princi- 
pal use;  and  so  much  the  more,  because  the  faculties  of 
concoction  decay  in  old  age;  so  that  if  there  could  be 
some  auxiliary  nutritions,  by  bathing,  unctions,  or  else  by 
clysters,  these  things  in  conjunction  might  do  much,  which 
single  are  less  available. 

Also,  sleep  doth  supply  somewhat  to  nourishment ;  and, 
on  the  other  side,  exercise  doth  require  it  more  abundantly. 
But  as  moderate  sleep  conferreth  to  long  life,  so  much  more 
if  it  be  quiet  and  not  disturbed. 

Assimilation  is  best  done  when  all  local  motion  is 
suspended.  The  act  itself  of  assimilation  is  chiefly  accom- 
plished in  sleep  and  rest,  especially  toward  the  morning, 
the  distribution  being  finished.  Those  that  are  very  cold, 
and  especially  in  their  feet,  cannot  get  to  sleep ;  the  cause 
may  be  that  in  sleep  is  required  a  free  respiration,  which 
cold  doth  shut  in  and  hinder.  Therefore,  we  have  nothing 
else  to  advise  but  that  men  keep  themselves  hot  in  their 
sleep. 

Sleep  is  regularly  due  unto  human  nature  once  with- 
in four-and-twenty  hours,  and  that  for  six  or  five  hours 
at  the  least;  though  there  are,  even  in  this  kind,  some- 
times miracles  of  nature;  as  it  is  recorded  of  Mascenas, 
that  he  slept  not  for  a  long  time  before  his  death.  The 
fable  tells  us  that  Epimenides  slept  many  years  together 
in  a  cave,  and  all  that  time  needed  no  meat;  because  the 
spirits  waste  not  much  in  sleep. 

Some  noises  help  sleep ;  as  the  blowing  of  the  wind, 
the  trickling  of  water,  humming  of  bees,  soft  singing, 
reading,  etc.  The  cause  is  that  they  move  in  the  spirits 
a  gentle  attention ;  and  whatsoever  moveth  attention,  with- 
out too  much  labor,  stilleth  the  natural  and  discursive 

130 


SELECTIONS  FROM  BACON 

motion  of  the  spirits.  Sleep  nourisheth,  or  at  least  pre- 
serveth,  bodies  a  long  time,  without  other  nourishment. 
There  have  some  been  found  who  sustained  them- 
selves —  almost  to  a  miracle  in  nature  —  a  very  long  time 
without  meat  or  drink.  Living  creatures  may  subsist 
somewhat  the  longer  without  aliment,  if  they  sleep ;  now, 
sleep  is  nothing  else  but  a  reception  and  retirement  of 
the  living  spirit  into  itself.  Experience  teacheth  us  that 
certain  creatures,  as  dormice  and  bats,  sleep  in  some  close 
places  a  whole  winter  together;  such  is  the  force  of  sleep 
to  restrain  all  vital  consumption.  That  which  bees  or 
drones  are  also  thought  to  do,  though  sometimes  destitute 
of  honey ;  and  likewise  butterflies  and  other  flies.  Beasts 
that  sleep  in  winter,  —  as  it  is  noted  of  wild  bears,  —  dur- 
ing their  sleep  wax  very  fat,  though  they  eat  nothing.  Bats 
have  been  found  in  ovens,  and  other  hollow  close  places, 
matted  one  upon  another;  and,  therefore,  it  is  likely  that 
they  sleep  in  the  winter  time,  and  eat  nothing.  Butter- 
flies, and  other  flies,  do  not  only  sleep,  but  lie  as  dead  all 
winter;  and  yet  with  a  little  heat  of  sun  or  fire,  revive 
again.  A  dormouse,  both  winter  and  summer,  will  sleep 
some  days  together,  and  eat  nothing. 

Sleep  after  dinner  —  the  stomach  sending  up  no  un- 
pleasant vapors  to  the  head,  as  being  the  first  dews  of  our 
meat  —  is  good  for  the  spirits,  but  derogatory  and  hurtful 
to  all  other  points  of  health.  Notwithstanding,  in  ex- 
treme old  age  there  is  the  same  reason  of  meat  and  sleep ; 
for  both  our  meals  and  our  sleeps  should  be  then  frequent, 
but  short  and  little ;  nay,  and  toward  the  last  period  of  old 
age,  a  mere  rest,  and,  as  it  were,  a  perpetual  reposing, 
doth  best  —  especially  in  winter  time. 

To  be  free-minded  and  cheerfully  disposed  at  hours 
of  meat  and  of  sleep  and  of  exercise,  is  one  of  the  best 
precepts  of  long  lasting. 

131 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

We  suppose  that  a  good  clothing  of  the  body  maketh 
much  to  long  life;  for  it  fenceth  and  armeth  against  the 
intemperances  of  the  air,  which  do  wonderfully  assail  and 
decay  the  body. 

Above  all  things,  in  youth,  and  for  those  that  have 
sufficiently  strong  stomachs,  it  will  be  best  to  take  a  good 
draught  of  clear  cold  water  when  they  go  to  bed. 

Washing  the  body  in  cold  water  is  good  for  length  of 
life. 

Especially,  care  must  be  taken  that  no  hot  things  be 
applied  to  the  head  outwardly. 

Not  only  the  goodness  or  pureness  of  the  air,  but 
also  the  equality  of  the  air,  is  material  to  long  life.  It 
is  a  secret  that  the  health  fulness  of  air,  especially  in  any 
perfection,  is  better  found  by  experiment  than  by  dis- 
course or  conjecture.  The  country  life  is  well  fitted  for 
long  life;  it  is  much  abroad,  and  in  the  open  air;  it  is 
not  slothful,  but  ever  in  employment.  They  are  longer 
lived,  for  the  most  part,  that  live  abroad  in  the  open  air, 
than  they  that  live  in  houses;  and  it  is  certain  that  the 
morning  air  is  more  lively  and  refreshing  than  the  eve- 
ning air.  Change  of  air  by  traveling,  after  one  be  used 
unto  it,  is  good ;  and,  therefore,  great  travelers  have  been 
long-lived.  Also  those  that  have  lived  perpetually  in  a 
little  cottage,  in  the  same  place,  have  been  long  livers ;  for 
air  accustomed  consumeth  less,  but  air  changed  nour- 
isheth  and  repaireth  more. 

The  heart  receiveth  benefit  or  harm  most  from  the 
air  which  we  breathe,  from  vapors,  and  from  the  affec- 
tions. 

We  must  come  now  to  the  affections  and  passions  of 
the  mind,  and  see  which  of  them  are  hurtful  to  long  life, 
which  profitable. 

Every  noble,  and  resolute,  and  —  as  they  call  it  — 
heroical  desire,  strengtheneth  and  enlargeth  the  powers 

132 


SELECTIONS   FROM   BACON 

of  the  heart.  Goodness  I  call  the  habit,  and  goodness  of 
nature  the  inclination.  This,  of  all  virtues  and  dignities 
of  the  mind,  is  the  greatest,  being  the  character  of  the 
Deity;  and  without  it,  man  is  a  busy,  mischievous, 
wretched  thing,  no  better  than  a  kind  of  vermin. 

Hope  is  the  most  beneficial  of  all  the  affections,  and 
doth  much  to  the  prolongation  of  life,  if  it  be  not  too 
often  frustrated,  but  entertaineth  the  fancy  with  an  ex- 
pectation of  good ;  therefore,  they  which  fix  and  propound 
to  themselves  some  end,  —  as  the  mark  and  scope  of  their 
life,  —  and  continually  and  by  degrees  go  forward  in  the 
same,  are,  for  the  most  part,  long-lived. 

Admiration  and  light  contemplation  are  very  power- 
ful to  the  prolonging  of  life;  for  they  hold  the  spirits  in 
such  things  as  delight  them,  and  suffer  them  not  to  tu- 
multuate,  or  to  carry  themselves  unquietly  and  waywardly. 
Therefore,  all  the  contemplators  of  natural  things,  which 
had  so  many  and  eminent  objects  to  admire,  were  long- 
lived. 

Action,  endeavor,  and  labor,  undertaken  cheerfully  and 
with  a  good  will,  doth  refresh  the  spirits;  but  with  an 
aversation  and  unwillingness,  doth  fret  and  deject  them. 
Therefore  it  conferreth  to  long  life,  either  that  a  man 
hath  the  art  to  institute  his  life  so  as  it  may  be  free  and 
suitable  to  his  own  humor,  or  else  to  lay  such  a  command 
upon  his  mind,  that  whatsoever  is  imposed  by  fortune,  it 
may  rather  lead  him  than  drag  him. 

No  doubt  it  furthereth  long  life,  to  have  all  things 
from  our  youth  to  our  elder  age  mend  and  grow  to  the 
better;  that  a  youth  full  of  crosses  may  minister  sweet- 
ness to  our  old  age. 

One  thing,  above  all,  is  grateful  to  the  spirits:  that 
there  be  a  continual  progress  to  the  more  benign.  There- 
fore we  should  lead  such  a  youth  and  manhood,  that  our 
old  age  should  find  new  solaces,  whereof  the  chief  is 

133 


THE  ART  OP   LIVING   LONG 

moderate  ease ;  and,  therefore,  old  men  in  honorable  places 
lay  violent  hands  upon  themselves,  who  retire  not  to  their 
ease.  But  this  thing  doth  require  two  cautions :  one,  that 
they  drive  not  off  till  their  bodies  be  utterly  worn  out  and 
diseased,  for  in  such  bodies  all  mutation,  though  to  the 
more  benign,  hasteneth  death ;  the  other,  that  they  surren- 
der not  themselves  to  a  sluggish  ease,  but  that  they  em- 
brace something  which  may  entertain  their  thoughts  and 
mind  with  contentation. 

Ficino  saith  —  not  unwisely  —  that  old  men,  for  the 
comforting  of  their  spirits,  ought  often  to  remember  and 
ruminate  upon  the  acts  of  their  childhood  and  youth. 
Certainly,  such  a  remembrance  is  a  kind  of  peculiar  recrea- 
tion to  every  old  man ;  and,  therefore,  it  is  a  delight  to  men 
to  enjoy  the  society  of  them  which  have  been  brought  up 
together  with  them,  and  to  visit  the  places  of  their  educa- 
tion. Vespasian  did  attribute  so  much  to  this  matter,  that, 
when  he  was  emperor,  he  would  by  no  means  be  persuaded 
to  leave  his  father's  house,  —  though  but  mean,  —  lest  he 
should  lose  the  wonted  object  of  his  eyes  and  the  memory 
of  his  childhood.  And,  besides,  he  would  drink  in  a 
wooden  cup,  tipped  with  silver,  which  was  his  grand- 
mother's, upon  festival  days. 

The  spirits  are  delighted  both  with  wonted  things 
and  with  new.  Now,  it  maketh  wonderfully  to  the  con- 
servation of  the  spirits  in  vigor,  that  we  neither  use  wonted 
things  to  a  satiety  and  glutting,  nor  new  things  before 
a  quick  and  strong  appetite.  Therefore,  both  customs  are 
to  be  broken  off  with  judgment  and  care,  before  they 
breed  a  fullness;  and  the  appetite  after  new  things  to  be 
restrained  for  a  time,  until  it  grow  more  sharp  and  jocund. 
Moreover,  the  life,  as  much  as  may  be,  is  so  to  be  ordered, 
that  it  may  have  many  renovations;  and  the  spirits,  by 
perpetual  conversing  in  the  same  actions,  may  not  wax  dull. 

134 


SELECTIONS   FROM    BACON 

For  though  it  were  no  Dl  saying  of  Seneca's,  "The  fool  doth 
ever  begin  to  live^' ;  yet  this  folly,  and  many  more  such,  are 
good  for  long  life. 

It  is  to  be  observed  touching  the  spirits,  —  though 
the  contrary  used  to  be  done,  —  that  when  men  perceive 
their  spirits  to  be  in  good,  placid,  and  healthful  state,  — 
that  which  will  be  seen  by  the  tranquillity  of  their  mind, 
and  cheerful  disposition,  —  that  they  cherish  them,  and 
not  change  them;  but  when  in  a  turbulent  and  untoward 
state,  —  which  will  also  appear  by  their  sadness,  lumpish- 
ness,  and  other  indisposition  of  their  mind,  —  that  then 
they  straight  overwhelm  them  and  alter  them.  Now,  the 
spirits  are  contained  in  the  same  state  by  a  restraining 
of  the  affections,  temperateness  of  diet,  moderation  in 
labor,  indifferent  rest  and  repose;  and  the  contrary  to 
these  do  alter  and  overwhelm  the  spirits;  as,  namely, 
vehement  affections,  profuse  feastings,  difficult  labors, 
earnest  studies,  and  prosecution  of  business.  Yet  men 
are  wont,  when  they  are  merriest  and  best  disposed,  then 
to  apply  themselves  to  feastings,  labors,  endeavors,  busi- 
ness ;  whereas,  if  they  have  a  regard  to  long  life,  —  which 
may  seem  strange,  —  they  should  rather  practice  the  con- 
trary. For  we  ought  to  cherish  and  preserve  good  spirits ; 
and  for  the  evil-disposed  spirits,  to  discharge  and  alter 
them. 

Grief  and  sadness,  if  it  be  void  of  fear,  and  afflict  not 
too  much,  doth  rather  prolong  life. 

Great  joys  attenuate  and  diffuse  the  spirits,  and 
shorten  life.  Great  fears,  also,  shorten  life;  for  though 
grief  and  fear  do  both  strengthen  the  spirits,  yet  in  grief 
there  is  a  simple  contraction;  but  in  fear,  by  reason  of 
the  cares  taken  for  the  remedy,  and  hopes  intermixed, 
there  is  a  turmoil  and  vexing  of  the  spirits. 

Whosoever  is  out  of  patience,  is  out  of  possession  of 
his  soul. 


135 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

Envy  is  the  worst  of  all  passions,  and  feedeth  upon 
the  spirits,  and  they  again  upon  the  body.  Of  all  affec- 
tions, envy  is  the  most  importune  and  continual;  there- 
fore it  was  well  said,  "Envy  keeps  no  holidays/'  for  it  is 
ever  working  upon  some  or  other.  It  is  also  the  vilest  affec- 
tion, and  the  most  depraved;  for  which  cause  it  is  the 
proper  attribute  of  the  devil,  who  is  called  "The  envious 
man,  that  soweth  tares  amongst  the  wheat  hy  night.'' 

Certainly,  the  more  a  man  drinketh  of  the  world,  the 
more  it  intoxicateth.  I  cannot  call  riches  better  than  the 
baggage  of  virtue.  The  Roman  word  is  better,  "impedi- 
menta"', for  as  the  baggage  is  to  an  army,  so  is  riches 
to  virtue;  it  cannot  be  spared  nor  left  behind,  but  it  hin- 
dereth  the  march ;  yea,  and  the  care  of  it  sometimes  loseth 
or  disturbeth  the  victory. 

It  is  most  certain,  that  passions  always  covet  and 
desire  that  which  experience  forsakes.  And  they  all  know, 
who  have  paid  dear  for  serving  and  obeying  their  lusts, 
that  whether  it  be  honor,  or  riches,  or  delight,  or  glory,  or 
knowledge,  or  anything  else,  which  they  seek  after;  yet 
are  they  but  things  cast  off,  and,  by  divers  men  in  all  ages, 
after  experience  had,  utterly  rejected  and  loathed. 

There  is  a  wisdom  in  this  beyond  the  rules  of  physic : 
a  man's  own  observation,  what  he  finds  good  of,  and  what 
he  finds  hurt  of,  is  the  best  physic  to  preserve  health. 
But  it  is  a  safer  conclusion  to  say,  "This  agreeth  not  well 
with  me,  therefore  I  will  not  continue  it"',  than  this,  "I 
find  no  offense  of  this,  therefore  I  may  use  it" ;  for  strength 
of  nature  in  youth  passeth  over  many  excesses  which  are 
owing  a  man  till  his  age.  Discern  of  the  coming  on  of 
years,  and  think  not  to  do  the  same  things  still;  for  age 
will  not  be  defied.  Beware  of  sudden  change  in  any  great 
point  of  diet,  and,  if  necessity  enforce  it,  fit  the  rest  to  it ; 

136 


SELECTIONS   FROM   BACON 

for  it  is  a  secret  both  in  nature  and  state,  that  it  is  safer 
to  change  many  things  than  one.  Examine  thy  customs 
of  diet,  sleep,  exercise,  apparel,  and  the  like;  and  try,  in 
anything  thou  shalt  judge  hurtful,  to  discontinue  it  by 
little  by  little. 

Entertain  hopes;  mirth  rather  than  joy;  variety  of  de- 
lights, rather  than  surfeit  of  them;  wonder  and  admira- 
tion, and  therefore  novelties ;  studies  that  fill  the  mind  with 
splendid  and  illustrious  objects,  as  histories,  fables,  and 
contemplations  of  nature.  If  you  fly  physic  in  health  al- 
together, it  will  be  too  strange  for  your  body  when  you 
shall  need  it;  if  you  make  it  too  familiar,  it  will  work  no 
extraordinary  effect  when  sickness  cometh.  Despise  no 
new  accident  in  your  body,  but  ask  opinion  of  it.  In  sick- 
ness, respect  health  principally;  and  in  health,  action;  for 
those  that  put  their  bodies  to  endure  in  health,  may,  in 
most  sicknesses  which  are  not  very  sharp,  be  cured  only- 
with  diet  and  tendering. 

Physicians  are  some  of  them  so  pleasing  and  con- 
formable to  the  humor  of  the  patient,  as  they  press  not 
the  true  cure  of  the  disease;  and  some  others  are  so  regu- 
lar in  proceeding  according  to  art  for  the  disease,  as  they 
respect  not  sufl&ciently  the  condition  of  the  patient.  Take 
one  of  a  middle  temper;  or,  if  it  may  not  be  found  in 
one  man,  combine  two  of  either  sort ;  and  forget  not  to  call 
as  well  the  best  acquainted  with  your  body,  as  the  best  re- 
puted of  for  his  faculty. 

Touching  the  length  and  shortness  of  life  in  living 
creatures,  the  information  which  may  be  had  is  but  slender, 
observation  negligent,  and  tradition  fabulous.  In  tame 
creatures,  their  degenerate  life  corrupteth  them;  in  wild 
creatures,  their  exposing  to  all  weathers  often  intercepteth 
them. 

Man's  age,  as  far  as  can  be  gathered  by  any  certain 
narration,  doth  exceed  the  age  of  all  other  living  creatures. 

187 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

except  it  be  of  a  very  few  only.  No  doubt  there  are  times 
in  every  country  wherein  men  are  longer  or  shorter  lived : 
longer,  for  the  most  part,  when  they  fare  less  deliciously, 
and  are  more  given  to  bodily  exercises ;  shorter,  when  they 
abandon  themselves  to  luxury  and  ease.  The  countries 
which  have  been  observed  to  produce  long  livers  are  these : 
Arcadia,  iEtolia,  India  on  this  side  Ganges,  Brazil,  Tapro- 
bane  [Ceylon],  Britain,  Ireland,  with  the  islands  of  the 
Orcades  [Orkneys]  and  Hebrides.  We  read  that  the 
Esseans  [Essenes],  amongst  the  Jews,  did  usually  extend 
their  life  to  a  hundred  years.  Now,  that  sect  used  a  single 
or  abstemious  diet,  after  the  rule  of  Pythagoras.  The 
monks  and  hermits,  which  fed  sparingly,  and  upon  dry  ali- 
ment, attained  commonly  to  a  great  age.  Amongst  the 
Venetians  there  have  been  found  not  a  few  long  livers,  and 
those  of  the  more  eminent  sort:  Francis  Donato,  Duke; 
Thomas  Contarini,  Procurator  of  St.  Mark;  and  others. 
But  most  memorable  is  Cornaro  the  Venetian  ;  who,  being 
in  his  youth  of  a  sickly  body,  began  first  to  eat  and  drink 
by  measure  to  a  certain  weight,  thereby  to  recover  his 
health;  this  cure  turned  by  use  into  a  diet;  that  diet  to 
an  extraordinary  long  life,  even  of  a  hundred  years  and 
better,  without  any  decay  in  his  senses,  and  with  a  con- 
stant enjoying  of  his  health. 

Being  admonished  by  Aristotle's  observation  touch- 
ing plants,  that  the  putting  forth  of  new  shoots  and 
branches  refresheth  the  body  of  the  tree  in  the  passage; 
we  conceive  the  like  reason  might  be,  if  the  flesh  and 
blood  in  the  body  of  man  were  often  renewed,  that  thereby 
the  bones  themselves,  and  membranes,  and  other  parts,  — 
which  in  their  own  nature  are  less  reparable,  —  partly  by 
the  cheerful  passage  of  the  juices,  partly  by  that  new 
clothing  of  the  young  flesh  and  blood,  might  be  watered 
and  renewed.     If  any  man  could  procure  that  a  young 

138 


SELECTIONS  FBOM   BACON 

man's  spirit  could  be  conveyed  into  an  old  man's  body, 
it  is  not  unlikely  but  this  great  wheel  of  the  spirits  might 
turn  about  the  lesser  wheels  of  the  parts,  and  so  the  course 
of  nature  become  retrograde.  The  spirit,  if  it  be  not 
irritated  by  the  antipathy  of  the  body  inclosing  it,  nor  fed 
by  the  overmuch  likeness  of  that  body,  nor  solicited  nor  in- 
vited by  the  external  body,  makes  no  great  stir  to  get  out. 

We  denounce  unto  men  that  they  will  give  over  trifling, 
and  not  imagine  that  so  great  a  work  as  the  stopping  and 
turning  back  the  powerful  course  of  nature  can  be 
brought  to  pass  by  some  morning  draught,  or  the  taking  of 
some  precious  drug;  but  that  they  would  be  assured  that 
it  must  needs  be  that  this  is  a  work  of  labor,  and  con- 
sisteth  of  many  remedies,  and  a  fit  connection  of  them 
amongst  themselves. 

If  a  man  perform  that  which  hath  not  been  attempted 
before,  or  attempted  and  given  over,  or  hath  been  achieved, 
but  not  with  so  good  circumstance,  he  shall  purchase 
more  honor  than  by  affecting  a  matter  of  greater  difficulty, 
or  virtue,  wherein  he  is  but  a  follower. 

Experience,  no  doubt,  will  both  verify  and  promote 
these  matters.  And  such,  in  all  things,  are  the  works 
of  every  prudent  counsel,  that  they  are  admirable  in  their 
effects. 


139 


Voluptuous  man 
j  Is  by  superior  faculties  misled; 
Misled  from  pleasure  even  in  quest  of  joy. 
Sated  with  Nature's  boons,  what  thousands  seek. 
With  dishes  tortured  from  their  native  taste. 
And  mad  variety,  to  spur  beyond 
Its  wiser  will  the  jaded  appetite ! 
Is  this  for  pleasure  ?  Learn  a  juster  taste  ! 
And  Jcnow  thai  temperance  is  true  luxury. 

Know,  whatever 
Beyond  its  natural  fervor  hurries  on 
The  sanguine  tide;  whether  the  frequent  bowl. 
High-season' d  fare,  or  exercise  to  toil 
Protracted;  spurs  to  its  last  stage  tired  life. 
And  sows  the  temples  with  untimely  snow. 

— John  Armstrong. 


SELECTIONS 


SIR  WILLIAM  TEMPLE'S 


"Health  and  Long  Life' 


Etc.* 


I  can  truly  say,  that,  of  all  the  paper  I  have  blotted, 
which  has  been  a  great  deal  in  my  time,  I  have  never 
written  anything  for  the  public  without  the  intention 
of  some  public  good.  Whether  I  have  succeeded,  or  no, 
is  not  my  part  to  judge;  and  others,  in  what  they  tell 
me,  may  deceive  either  me  or  themselves.  Good  inten- 
tions are  at  least  the  seed  of  good  actions;  and  every 
man  ought  to  sow  them,  and  leave  it  to  the  soil  and  the 
seasons  whether  they  come  up  or  no,  and  whether  he  or 
any  other  gathers  the  fruit. 

I  have  chosen  those  subjects  of  these  essays,  wherein 
I  take  human  life  to  be  most  concerned,  and  which  are 

♦  See  Note  C 


141 


THE  ART  OP  LIVING  LONG 

of  most  common  use,  or  most  necessary  knowledge;  and 
wherein,  though  I  may  not  be  able  to  inform  men  more 
than  they  know,  yet  I  may,  perhaps,  give  them  the  occa- 
sion to  consider  more  than  they  do.  All  men  would  be 
glad  to  be  their  own  masters,  and  should  not  be  sorry 
to  be  their  own  scholars,  when  they  pay  no  more  for  their 
learning  than  their  own  thoughts,  which  they  have  com- 
monly more  store  of  about  them  than  they  know  what  to  do 
with.  Of  all  sorts  of  instructions,  the  best  is  gained  from 
our  own  thoughts  as  well  as  experience;  for  though  a 
man  may  grow  learned  by  other  men's  thoughts,  yet  he 
will  grow  wise  or  happy  only  by  his  own  —  the  use  of 
other  men's  toward  these  ends,  is  but  to  serve  for  one's  own 
reflections. 

Some  writers,  in  casting  up  the  goods  most  desirable  in 
life,  have  given  them  this  rank :  health,  beauty,  and  riches. 
Of  the  first  I  find  no  dispute,  but  to  the  two  others  much 
may  be  said ;  for  beauty  is  a  good  that  makes  others  happy 
rather  than  one's  self;  and  how  riches  should  claim  so 
high  a  rank,  I  cannot  tell,  when  so  great,  so  wise,  and  so 
good  a  part  of  mankind  have,  in  all  ages,  preferred  poverty 
before  them.  All  the  ancient  philosophers  —  whatever  else 
they  differed  in  —  agreed  in  this  of  despising  riches,  and 
at  best  esteeming  them  an  unnecessary  trouble  or  encum- 
brance of  life;  so  that  whether  they  are  to  be  reckoned 
among  goods  or  evils  is  yet  left  in  doubt. 

The  two  great  blessings  of  life  are,  in  my  opinion, 
health  and  good  humor ;  and  none  contribute  more  to  one 
another.  Without  health,  all  will  allow  life  to  be  but  a 
burden;  and  the  several  conditions  of  fortune  to  be  all 
wearisome,  dull,  or  disagreeable,  without  good  humor; 
nor  does  any  seem  to  contribute  toward  the  true  happiness 
of  life,  but  as  it  serves  to  increase  that  treasure,  or  to 

142 


SELECTIONS   FEOM  TEMPLE 

preserve  it.  Whatever  other  differences  are  commonly  ap- 
prehended in  the  several  conditions  of  fortune,  none,  per- 
haps, will  be  found  so  true  or  so  great  as  what  is  made 
by  those  two  circumstances,  so  little  regarded  in  the  com- 
mon course  or  pursuits  of  mortal  men. 

Health  in  the  body  is  like  peace  in  the  State  and 
serenity  in  the  air.  Health  is  the  soul  that  animates  all 
enjoyments  of  life,  which  fade  and  are  tasteless,  if  not 
dead,  without  it.  A  man  starves  at  the  best  and  the  great- 
est tables,  and  is  poor  and  wretched  in  the  midst  of  the 
greatest  treasures  and  fortunes.  With  common  diseases, 
strength  grows  decrepit ;  youth  loses  all  vigor,  and  beauty 
all  charms ;  music  grows  harsh,  and  conversation  disagree- 
able; palaces  are  prisons,  or  of  equal  confinement;  riches 
are  useless;  honor  and  attendance  are  cumbersome;  and 
crowns  themselves  are  a  burden.  But  if  diseases  are  pain- 
ful and  violent,  they  equal  all  conditions  of  life,  and  make 
no  difference  between  a  prince  and  a  beggar.  The  vigor 
of  the  mind  decays  with  that  of  the  body,  and  not  only 
humor  and  invention,  but  even  judgment  and  resolution, 
change  and  languish  with  ill  constitution  of  body  and  of 
health ;  and,  by  this  means>  public  business  comes  to  suffer 
by  private  infirmities,  and  Kingdoms  or  States  fall  into 
weaknesses  and  distempers  or  decays  of  those  persons  that 
manage  them.  I  have  seen  the  counsels  of  a  noble  country 
grow  bold  or  timorous,  according  to  the  fits  of  his  good  or 
ill  health  that  managed  them ;  and  the  pulse  of  the  govern- 
ment beat  high  or  low  with  that  of  the  governor.  Thus, 
accidents  of  health  grow  to  be  accidents  of  State;  and 
public  constitutions  come  to  depend,  in  a  great  measure, 
upon  those  of  particular  men. 

To  know  that  the  passions  or  distempers  of  the  mind 
make  our  lives  unhappy,  in  spite  of  all  accidents  and 

143 


)l 


THE  AKT  OP  LIVING  LONG 

favors  of  fortune,  a  man,  perhaps,  must  be  a  philosopher 
and  requires  much  thought,  and  study,  and  deep  reflec- 
tions. To  be  a  Stoic,  and  grow  insensible  of  pain,  as 
well  as  poverty  or  disgrace,  one  must  be,  perhaps,  some- 
thing more  or  less  than  a  man,  renounce  common  nature, 
oppose  common  truth  and  constant  experience.  But  there 
needs  little  learning  or  study,  more  than  common  thought 
and  observation,  to  find  out  that  ill  health  loses  not  only 
the  enjoyments  of  fortune,  but  the  pleasures  of  sense,  and 
even  of  imagination;  and  hinders  the  common  operations 
both  of  body  and  mind  from  being  easy  and  free.  Let 
philosophers  reason  and  differ  about  the  chief  good  or 
happiness  of  man;  let  them  find  it  where  they  can,  and 
place  it  where  they  please;  but  there  is  no  mistake  so 
gross,  or  opinion  so  impertinent,  —  how  common  soever,  — 
as  to  think  pleasures  arise  from  what  is  without  us, 
rather  than  from  what  is  within. 

But  to  leave  philosophy,  and  return  to  health.  What- 
ever is  true  in  point  of  happiness  depending  upon  the 
temper  of  the  mind,  'tis  certain  that  pleasures  depend  upon 
the  temper  of  the  body;  and  that,  to  enjoy  them,  a  man 
must  be  well  himself.  Men  are  apt  to  play  with  their 
health  and  their  lives,  as  they  do  with  their  clothes.  To 
find  any  felicity,  or  take  any  pleasure  in  the  greatest  ad- 
vantages of  honor  and  fortune,  a  man  must  be  in  health. 
Who  would  not  be  covetous,  and  with  reason,  if  this  could 
be  purchased  with  gold?  who  not  ambitious,  if  it  were  at 
the  command  of  power,  or  restored  by  honor?  But,  alas! 
a  white  staff  will  not  help  gouty  feet  to  walk  better  than 
a  common  cane ;  nor  a  blue  ribbon  bind  up  a  wound  so  well 
as  a  fillet ;  the  glitter  of  gold  or  of  diamonds  will  but  hurt 
sore  eyes,  instead  of  curing  them;  and  an  aching  head 
will  be  no  more  eased  by  wearing  a  crown  than  a  common 
nightcap. 

144 


SELECTIONS   FROM   TEMPLE 

If  health  be  such  a  blessing,  and  the  very  source  of  all 
pleasure,  it  may  be  worth  the  pains  to  discover  the  regions 
where  it  grows,  the  springs  that  feed  it,  the  customs  and 
methods  by  which  it  is  best  cultivated  and  preserved. 
Toward  this  end,  it  will  be  necessary  to  consider  the  ex- 
amples or  instances  we  meet  with  of  health,  and  long  life, 
which  is  the  consequence  of  it;  and  to  observe  the  places, 
the  customs,  and  the  conditions  of  those  who  enjoyed  them 
in  any  degree  extraordinary;  from  whence  we  may  best 
guess  at  the  causes,  and  make  the  truest  conclusions. 

Health  and  long  life  are  usually  blessings  of  the  poor, 
not  of  the  rich ;  and  the  fruits  of  temperance,  rather  than 
of  luxury  and  excess.  And,  indeed,  if  a  rich  man  does  not, 
in  many  things,  live  like  a  poor,  he  will  certainly  be  the 
worse  for  his  riches :  if  he  does  not  use  exercise,  which  is 
but  voluntary  labor;  if  he  does  not  restrain  appetite  by 
choice,  as  the  other  does  by  necessity ;  if  he  does  not  prac- 
tice sometimes  even  abstinence  and  fasting,  which  is  the 
last  extreme  of  want  and  poverty.  If  his  cares  and  his 
troubles  increase  with  his  riches,  or  his  passions  with  his 
pleasures,  he  will  certainly  impair  in  health,  whilst  he 
improves  his  fortunes,  and  lose  more  than  he  gains  by  the 
bargain ;  since  health  is  the  best  of  all  human  possessions, 
and  without  which  the  rest  are  not  relished  or  kindly  en- 
joyed. 

It  is  observable  in  story,  that  the  ancient  philoso- 
phers lived  generally  very  long;  which  may  be  attributed 
to  their  great  temperance,  and  their  freedom  from  com- 
mon passions,  as  well  as  cares,  of  the  world.  The  Bra- 
zilians, when  first  discovered,  lived  the  most  natural  orig- 
inal lives  of  mankind,  so  frequently  described  in  ancient 
countries,  before  laws,  or  property,  or  arts  made  entrance 
among  them ;  they  lived  without  business  or  labor,  further 

145 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

than  for  their  necessary  food,  by  gathering  fruits,  herbs, 
and  plants;  they  knew  no  drink  but  water;  were  not 
tempted  to  eat  nor  drink  beyond  common  thirst  or  appetite ; 
were  not  troubled  with  either  public  or  domestic  cares ;  nor 
knew  any  pleasures  but  the  most  simple  and  natural.  Many 
of  these  were  said,  at  the  time  that  country  was  discovered 
by  the  Europeans,  to  have  lived  two  hundred,  some  three 
hundred  years. 

From  these  examples  and  customs  it  may  probably 
be  concluded,  that  the  common  ingredients  of  health  and 
long  life  —  where  births  are  not  impaired  from  the  con- 
ception by  any  derived  infirmities  of  the  race  they  come 
from  —  are  great  temperance,  open  air,  easy  labor,  little 
care,  simplicity  of  diet,  and  water  —  which  preserves  the 
radical  moisture  without  too  much  increasing  the  radical 
heat;  whereas  sickness,  decay,  and  death  proceed  com- 
monly from  the  one  preying  too  fast  upon  the  other,  and 
at  length  wholly  extinguishing  it. 

I  think  temperance  deserves  the  first  rank  among 
public  virtues,  as  well  as  those  of  private  men ;  and  doubt 
whether  any  can  pretend  to  the  constant,  steady  exercise 
of  prudence,  justice,  or  fortitude,  without  it.  That  which 
I  call  temperance,  is  a  regular  and  simple  diet,  limited  by 
every  man's  experience  of  his  own  easy  digestion,  and 
thereby  proportioning,  as  near  as  well  can  be,  the  daily 
repairs  to  the  daily  decays  of  our  wasting  bodies.  Tem- 
perance, that  virtue  without  pride,  and  fortune  without 
envy!  that  gives  indolence  [repose]  of  body,  and  tran- 
quillity of  mind ;  the  best  guardian  of  youth,  and  support 
of  old  age ;  the  precept  of  reason,  as  well  as  religion ;  the 
physician  of  the  soul,  as  well  as  the  body;  the  tutelar 
goddess  of  health,  and  universal  medicine  of  life;  that 
clears  the  head,  and  cleanses  the  blood;  that  strengthens 
the  nerves,  enlightens  the  eyes,  and  comforts  the  heart ! 

146 


SELECTIONS  FROM  TEMPLE 

No  degree  of  temperance  can,  I  think,  be  too  great 
for  the  cure  of  most  diseases  to  which  mankind  is  exposed, 
rather  by  the  viciousness,  than  by  the.  frailty,  of  their 
natures  —  diseases  by  which  we  often  condemn  ourselves 
to  greater  torments  and  miseries  of  life  than  have,  per- 
haps, been  yet  invented  by  anger  or  revenge,  or  inflicted 
by  the  greatest  tyrants  upon  the  worst  of  men.  I  know 
not  whether  some  desperate  degrees  of  abstinence  would 
not  have  the  same  effect  upon  other  men,  as  they  had  upon 
Atticus;  who,  weary  of  his  life  as  well  as  his  physicians 
by  long  and  cruel  pains  of  a  dropsical  gout,  and  despair- 
ing of  any  cure,  resolved  by  degrees  to  starve  himself  to 
death ;  and  went  so  far,  that  the  physicians  found  he  had 
ended  his  disease  instead  of  his  life. 

For  one  life  that  ends  by  mere  decay  of  nature  or 
age,  millions  are  intercepted  by  accidents  from  without 
or  diseases  within;  by  untimely  deaths  or  decays;  from 
the  effects  of  excess  and  luxury,  immoderate  repletion  or 
exercise.  Men  are,  perhaps,  most  betrayed  to  all  these 
dangers  by  great  strength  and  vigor  of  constitution,  by 
more  appetite  and  larger  fare,  in  colder  climates;  in  the 
warm,  excesses  are  found  more  pernicious  to  health,  and 
so  more  avoided;  and  if  experience  and  reflection  do  not 
cause  temperance  among  them,  yet  it  is  forced  upon  them 
by  the  faintness  of  appetite.  I  can  find  no  better  account 
of  a  story  Sir  Francis  Bacon  tells,  of  a  very  old  man, 
whose  customs  and  diet  he  inquired ;  who  said  he  observed 
none  besides  eating  before  he  was  hungry  and  drinking 
before  he  was  dry,  for  by  that  rule  he  was  sure  never  to  eat 
nor  drink  much  at  a  time.  I  do  not  remember,  either  in 
story  or  modern  observation,  any  examples  of  long  life 
common  to  any  parts  of  Europe,  which  the  temper  of  the 
climate  has  probably  made  the  scene  of  luxury  and  excesses 
in  diet. 

147 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

And,  I  doubt,  pleasures  too  long  continued,  or  rather 
too  frequently  repeated,  may  spend  the  spirits,  and  thereby 
life,  too  fast^  to  leave  it  very  long;  like  blowing  a  fire 
too  often,  which  makes  it  indeed  burn  the  better,  but  last 
the  less.  For  as  pleasures  perish  themselves  in  the  using, 
—  like  flowers  that  fade  with  gathering,  —  so  'tis  neither 
natural  nor  safe  to  continue  them  long,  to  renew  them  with- 
out appetite,  or  ever  to  provoke  them  by  arts  or  imagination 
where  Nature  does  not  call ;  who  can  best  tell  us  when  and 
how  much  we  need,  or  what  is  good  for  us,  if  we  were  so 
wise  as  to  consult  her. 

The  faintness  of  appetite,  especially  in  great  cities, 
makes  the  many  endeavors  to  relieve  and  provoke  it  by 
art,  where  nature  fails;  and  this  is  one  great  ground  of 
luxury,  and  so  many,  and  various,  and  extravagant  inven- 
tions to  heighten  and  improve  it ;  which  may  serve  perhaps 
for  some  refinement  in  pleasure,  but  not  at  all  for  any 
advantages  of  health  or  of  life.  On  the  contrary,  all  the 
great  cities,  celebrated  most  by  the  concourse  of  mankind, 
and  by  the  inventions  and  customs  of  the  greatest  and 
most  delicate  luxury,  are  the  scenes  of  the  most  frequent 
and  violent  plagues,  as  well  as  other  diseases. 

In  the  course  of  common  life,  a  man  must  either  often 
exercise,  or  fast,  or  take  physic,  or  be  sick ;  and  the  choice 
seems  left  to  everyone  as  he  likes.  The  first  two  are  the 
best  methods  and  means  of  preserving  health;  the  use 
of  physic  is  for  restoring  it,  and  curing  those  diseases 
which  are  generally  caused  by  the  want  or  neglect  of  the 
others;  but  is  neither  necessary,  nor  perhaps  useful,  for 
confirming  health,  or  to  the  length  of  life,  being  generally 
a  force  upon  nature  —  though  the  end  of  it  seems  to  be 
rather  assisting  nature,  than  opposing  it  in  its  course. 
Nature  knows  her  own  wants  and  times  so  well,  as  to  need 
little   assistance;   leave  her  to   her  course,   who   is  the 

148 


SELECTIONS   FROM   TEMPLE 

sovereign  physician  in  most  diseases,  and  leaves  little  for 
others  to  do. 

'Tis  true,  physicians  must  be  in  danger  of  losing 
their  credit  with  the  vulgar,  if  they  should  often  tell  a 
patient  he  has  no  need  of  physic,  and  prescribe  only  rules 
of  diet  or  common  use ;  most  people  would  think  they  had 
lost  their  fee.  But  the  first  excellence  of  a  physician^s 
skill  and  care  is  discovered  by  resolving  whether  it  be  best 
in  the  case  to  administer  any  physic  or  none  —  to  trust  to 
nature  or  to  art;  and  the  next,  to  give  such  prescriptions, 
as,  if  they  do  no  good,  may  be  sure  to  do  no  harm. 

In  the  midst  of  such  uncertainties  of  health  and  of 
physic,  for  my  own  part,  I  have,  in  the  general  course 
of  my  life,  trusted  to  God  Almighty;  to  nature;  to  tem- 
perance or  abstinence;  and  the  use  of  common  remedies, 
vulgarly  known  and  approved,  like  proverbs,  by  long  ob- 
servation and  experience,  either  of  my  own,  or  such  persons 
as  have  fallen  in  the  way  of  my  observation  or  inquiry. 
The  best  cares  or  provisions  for  life  and  health  consist  in 
the  discreet  and  temperate  government  of  diet  and  exer- 
cise in  both  which  all  excess  is  to  be  avoided.  ^ 

As  hope  is  the  sovereign  balsam  of  life,  and  the  best 
cordial  in  all  distempers  both  of  body  or  mind;  so  fear, 
and  regret,  and  melancholy  apprehensions  —  with  the  dis- 
tractions, disquiets,  or  at  least  intranquillity,  they  occasion 
—  are  the  worst  accidents  that  can  attend  any  diseases; 
and  make  them  often  mortal,  which  would  otherwise  pass, 
and  have  had  but  a  common  course.  I  have  known  the 
most  busy  ministers  of  state,  most  fortunate  courtiers, 
most  vigorous  youths,  most  beautiful  virgins,  in  the 
strength  or  flower  of  their  age,  sink  under  common  dis- 
tempers, by  the  force  of  such  weights,  and  the  cruel  damps 
and  disturbances  thereby  given  their  spirits  and  their 
blood.    'Tis  no  matter  what  is  made  the  occasion,  if  well 

149 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

improved  by  spleen  and  melancholy  apprehensions :  a  dis- 
appointed hope,  a  blot  of  honor,  a  strain  of  conscience,  an 
unfortunate  love,  an  aching  jealousy,  a  repining  grief,  will 
serve  the  turn,  and  all  alike. 

I  remember  an  ingenious  physician,  who  told  me,  in 
the  fanatic  times,  he  found  most  of  his  patients  so  dis- 
turbed by  troubles  of  conscience,  that  he  was  forced  to  play 
the  divine  with  them  before  he  could  begin  the  physician ; 
whose  greatest  skill,  perhaps,  often  lies  in  the  infusing  of 
hopes,  and  inducing  some  composure  and  tranquillity  of 
mind,  before  he  enters  upon  the  other  operations  of  his 
art.  This  ought  to  be  the  first  endeavor  of  the  patient,  too ; 
without  which,  all  other  medicines  may  lose  their  virtue. 
In  all  diseases  of  body  or  mind,  it  is  happy  to  have  an 
able  physician  for  a  friend,  or  discreet  friend  for  a  phy- 
sician ;  which  is  so  great  a  blessing,  that  the  wise  man  will 
have  it  to  proceed  only  from  God,  where  he  says :  "A  faith- 
ful friend  is  the  medicine  of  life,  and  he  that  fears  the  Lord 
shall  find  him." 

Greece,  having  been  the  first  scene  of  luxury  we  meet 
with  in  story,  and  having  thereby  occasioned  more  diseases, 
seemed  to  owe  the  world  that  justice  of  providing  the 
remedies.  Among  the  more  simple  and  original  customs 
and  lives  of  other  nations  it  entered  late,  and  was  intro- 
duced by  the  Grecians.  In  ancient  Babylon  —  how  great 
and  populous  soever  —  no  physicians  were  known,  nor 
other  methods  for  the  cure  of  diseases,  besides  abstinence, 
patience,  and  domestic  care. 

Whoever  was  accounted  the  god  of  physic,  the  prince 
of  this  science  must  be  by  all,  I  think,  allowed  to  have 
been  Hippocrates,  whose  writings  are  the  most  ancient  of 
any  that  remain  to  posterity.  He  was  a  great  philosopher 
and  naturalist,  before  he  began  the  study  of  physic,  to 
which  both  these  are  perhaps  necessary.     His  rules  and 

150 


SIR  WILLIAM  TEMPLE 
1628-1699 

From   the   painting    by   Sir  Peter  Lely 

National  Portrait  Gallery,  London 

Photograph  copyrighted  by  talker  and  Cockcrell 


SELECTIONS  FROM   TEMPLE 

methods  continued  in  practice  as  well  as  esteem,  without 
any  dispute,  for  many  ages,  till  the  time  of  Galen;  and  I 
have  heard  a  great  physician  say,  that  his  aphorisms  are 
still  the  most  certain  and  uncontrolled  of  any  that  science 
has  produced.  I  will  judge  but  of  one,  which,  in  my 
opinion,  has  the  greatest  race  and  height  both  of  sense 
and  judgment  that  I  have  read  in  so  few  words,  and  the 
best  expressed :  ^^Ars  longa,  vita  hrevis,  experientia  fallax, 
occasio  praeceps,  judicium  difficile"  \^'Art  is  long,  life  is 
short,  experience  deceptive,  opportunity  sudden,  decision 
difficult"'].  By  which  alone,  if  no  more  remained  of  that 
admirable  person,  we  may  easily  judge  how  great  a  genius 
he  was,  and  how  perfectly  he  understood  both  nature  and 
art.  In  the  time  of  Adrian,  Galen  began  to  change  the 
practice  and  methods  of  physic,  derived  to  that  age  from 
Hippocrates ;  and  those  of  his  new  institution  continue  gen- 
erally observed  to  our  time.  Yet  Paracelsus,  about  two 
hundred  years  ago,  endeavored  to  overthrow  the  whole 
scheme  of  Galen,  and  introduce  a  new  one  of  his  own,  as 
well  as  the  use  of  chemical  medicines ;  and  has  not  wanted 
his  followers  and  admirers  ever  sinca 

I  have,  in  my  life^  met  with  two  of  above  a  hundred 
and  twelve;  whereof  the  woman  had  passed  her  life  in 
service;  and  the  man,  in  common  labor,  till  he  grew  old, 
and  fell  upon  the  parish.  But  I  met  with  one  who  had 
gone  a  much  greater  length,  which  made  me  more  curious 
in  my  inquiries:  'twas  an  old  man,  who  told  me  he  was 
a  hundred  and  twenty-four  years  old.  I  have  heard,  and 
very  credibly,  of  many  in  my  life,  above  a  hundred  years 
old. 

One  comfort  of  age  may  be,  that,  whereas  younger 
men  are  usually  in  pain,  when  they  are  not  in  pleasure, 
old  men  find  a  sort  of  pleasure,  whenever  they  are  out  of 
pain.     And,  as  young  men  often  lose  or  impair  their 

153 


THE  ART  OP  LIVING  LONG 

present  enjoyments,  by  raving  after  what  is  to  come,  by 
vain  hopes,  or  fruitless  fears ;  so  old  men  relieve  the  wants 
of  their  age,  by  pleasing  reflections  upon  what  is  past. 
Therefore  men,  in  the  health  and  vigor  of  their  age, 
should  endeavor  to  fill  their  lives  with  the  worthiest  ac- 
tions, —  either  in  their  public  or  private  stations,  —  that 
they  may  have  something  agreeable  left  to  feed  on,  when 
they  are  old,  by  pleasing  remembrances.  But,  as  they 
are  only  the  clean  beasts  which  chew  the  cud,  when  they 
have  fed  enough ;  so  they  must  be  clean  and  virtuous  men 
that  can  reflect,  with  pleasure,  upon  the  past  accidents  or 
courses  of  their  lives.  Besides,  men  who  grow  old  with 
good  sense,  or  good  fortunes,  and  good  nature,  cannot  want 
the  pleasure  of  pleasing  others,  by  assisting  with  their  gifts, 
their  credit,  and  their  advice,  such  as  deserve  it. 

Socrates  used  to  say,  that  'twas  pleasant  to  grow  old 
with  good  health  and  a  good  friend.  But  there  cannot 
indeed  live  a  more  unhappy  creature  than  an  ill-natured 
old  man,  who  is  neither  capable  of  receiving  pleasures,  nor 
sensible  of  doing  them  to  others ;  and,  in  such  a  condition, 
it  is  time  to  leave  them. 

Thus  have  I  traced,  in  this  essay,  whatever  has  fallen 
in  my  way  or  thoughts  to  observe  concerning  life  and 
health,  and  which  I  conceived  might  be  of  any  public  use 
to  be  known  or  considered ;  the  plainness  wherewith  it  is 
written  easily  shows  there  could  be  no  other  intention ;  and 
it  may  at  least  pass,  like  a  Derbyshire  charm,  which  is 
used  among  sick  cattle,  with  these  words :  ^'If  it  does  thee 
no  good,  it  will  do  thee  no  harm." 


154 


Fatal  effects  of  luxury  and  ease! 

We  drink  our  poison,  and  we  eat  disease. 

Indulge  our  senses  at  our  reason's  cost. 

Till  sense  is  pain,  and  reason  hurt  or  lost. 

Not  so,  0  Temperance  "bland!  when  ruled  by  thee. 

The  brute's  obedient,  and  the  man  is  free. 

Soft  are  his  slumbers,  balmy  is  his  rest. 

His  veins  not  boiling  from  the  midnight  feast, 

Touch'd  by  Aurora's  rosy  hand,  he  waTces 

Peaceful  and  calm,  and  with  the  world  partakes 

The  joyful  dawnings  of  returning  day. 

For  which  their  grateful  thanks  the  whole  creation  pay, 

All  but  the  human  brute:  'tis  he  alone. 

Whose  works  of  darkness  fly  the  rising  sun. 

'Tis  to  thy  rules,  0  Temperance !  that  we  owe 

All  pleasures,  which  from  health  and  strength  can  flow; 

Vigour  of  body,  purity  of  mind. 

Unclouded  reason,  sentiments  refined, 

Unmixi,  untainted  joys,  without  remorse, 

Th'  intemperate  sinner^s  never-failing  curse. 

— Mary  Chandler, 


I  would  recommend  to  everyone  thai  admirable 
precept  which  Pythagoras  is  said  to  have  given  to  his 
disciples. , , :  "Pitch  upon  that  course  of  life  which  is 
the  most  excellent,  and  custom  will  render  it  the  most 
delightful."  Men  whose  circumstances  will  permit  them 
to  choose  their  own  way  of  life  are  inexcusable  if  they  do 
not  pursue  that  which  their  judgment  tells  them  is  the 
m^st  laudable.  The  voice  of  reason  is  more  to  be  re- 
garded than  the  bent  of  any  present  inclination,  since, 
by  the  rule  above  mentioned,  inclination  will  at  length 
come  over  to  reason,  though  we  can  never  force  reason  to 
comply  with  inclination. — Joseph  Addison. 


APPENDIX 


A  Short  Histoby 

OF 

THE  CORNARO  FAMILY 


Some  Accoxmr 

OF 

EMINENT  CORNAROS 


A  EULOGY  UPON  LUIGI  CORNARO 

BT 

Baktolomeo  Gamba 


"THE  VILLAS  ERECTED   BY  LUIGI   CORNARO' 

BY 
Db.  Pbof.  EMIUO  LOVAAIin 


Health,  brightest  visitant  from  heaven. 

Grant  me  with  thee  to  rest! 
For  the  short  term  hy  nature  given. 

Be  thou  my  constant  guest! 
For  all  the  pride  that  wealth  bestows. 
The  pleasure  that  from  children  flows, 
Whate'er  we  court  in  regal  state 
That  makes  men  covet  to  be  great; 

Whatever  sweets  we  hope  to  find 

In  Love's  delightful  snare; 
Whatever  good  by  Heaven  assign'd. 

Whatever  pause  from  care : 
All  flourish  at  thy  smile  divine; 
The  spring  of  loveliness  is  thine. 
And  every  joy  that  warms  our  hearts. 
With  thee  approaches  and  departs. 

— Robert  Bland. 


A  SHORT  HISTORY 


oar 


THE  ANCIENT  AND  ILLUSTRIOUS 


CoRNARO  Family 


OP   VENICE 


Nor  can  the  skillful  herald  trace 
The  founder  of  thy  ancient  race. 

— Jonathan  Swift. 

The  nohle  steeds,  and  harness  bright. 
And  gallant  lord,  and  stalwart  Jcnight, 
In  rich  array — 

Where  shall  we  seeh  them  now?   Alas! 
Like  the  bright  dewdrops  on  the  grass. 
They  passed  away. 

— Manrique  {trans,  hy  Longfellow). 


NEVEK  was  parent  better  repaid  by  the  steadfast  devotion 
of  her  children  than  was  that  Mistress  of  the  Seas,  who, 
century  after  century,  was  the  wonder  and  admiration  of 
mankind ;  the  center  of  the  trade  and  finance  of  the  world,  su- 

159 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

preme  as  she  was  in  every  mart;  the  most  valiant  defender  of 
civilization  in  its  wars  against  the  Turks ;  as  well  as  the  example 
to  humanity,  and  its  inspiration,  in  all  the  arts  of  peace. 

Among  her  patriotic  sons  and  daughters,  none  labored  in 
her  service  with  a  more  earnest  self-denial  than  did  the  members 
of  the  illustrious  patrician  family  of  COENAKO,  whose  name 
is  found  interwoven  for  centuries  in  every  honorable  particular 
of  the  remarkable  history  of  the  Kepublic  of  Venice.  Almost 
every  line  of  the  annals  of  this  celebrated  family  shows  unmis- 
takably that  their  ambition,  their  aspiration,  their  toil,  their 
courageous  exposure  —  and  often  sacrifice  —  of  life  and  fortune, 
were  always  for  the  advancement  of  their  country's  safety  and 
glory,  for  which  their  own  was  counted  as  naught ;  determined, 
as  tbey  were,  that  Venice  should  excel  in  virtue,  power,  and 
splendor,  any  land  which  presumed  to  be  her  rival,  and  that  her 
children  should  thus  enjoy  a  life  of  happiness  and  security. 
This,  for  generations,  was  the  ruling  passion  and  guiding  prin- 
ciple of  this  proud  and  noble  family. 

The  Comari,  the  history  of  whom,  for  generations,  added 
imperishable  fame  to  their  illustrious  source,  were  descended, 
according  to  the  most  authoritative  traditions  of  the  chroniclers, 
from  the  ancient  and  noble  race  of  the  Comelii*  of  Rome.  Hav- 
ing in  remote  times  settled  at  Rimini,  they  were  subsequently 
among  the  first  inhabitants  of  Rialto,  the  name  by  which  Venice 
was  known  in  its  infancy.  The  orthography  of  the  name,  during 
the  family's  long  history,  was  gradually  modified ;  so  that,  from 
Comelii,  it  became  successively  Comelli,  Coronelli,  Coronetti, 
Coronarii,  and  finally  Comaro,  or  Comer.  The  names  Comer 
and  Comaro  are  identical,  the  first  being  the  abridged  Italian 
form  of  the  Venetian  Comaro ;  in  the  18th  century  some  mem- 
bers of  the  family  adopted  that  of  Comer,  by  which  all  are  now 
known.  (To  be  uniform,  the  ancient  mode  —  that  of  Comaro 
—  is  adhered  to  throughout  this  work.) 

Having  been  enrolled  among  those  who  comprised  the  body 
of  the  Venetian  nobility,  the  Comaros  were  included  among  the 
•  See  Note  M 


160 


THE  CORNARO   FAMILY 

first  twelve  patrician  families  of  the  Kepublic,  called  the  apos- 
tolical, or  tribunal  families,  which  for  centuries  gave  the  mili- 
tary tribunes  to  the  Republic;  many  of  the  family  were  mem- 
bers also  of  the  famous  Great  Council,  established  in  1172. 

In  the  14th  century,  the  family  separated  into  two  distinct 
branches,  the  first  of  which  was  distinguished  by  contemporaries, 
and  later  by  historians,  by  the  name  of  Comaro  of  the  Great 
House;  the  other  was  that  of  Comaro  Piscopia,  so  called  from 
the  castle  and  fief  of  Piscopia  which  they  had  acquired  in  the 
island  of  Cyprus,  and  which,  formerly  the  property  of  Giovanni 
Ibelini,  Count  of  Jaffa,  had  come  into  the  possession  of  this 
branch  of  the  family  by  a  grant  from  the  king,  in  1363,  to  Fed- 
erico  (Frederick)  Comaro.  This  was  the  branch  to  which 
Caterina  (Catherine)  Comaro,  Queen  of  Cyprus;  Elena  Lu- 
crezia  (Helen  Lucretia)  Comaro,  the  famous  scholar ;  and  Luigi 
Comaro,  the  author  of  *'La  Vita  Sohria"  belonged.  After  the 
ascent  of  Caterina  to  regal  power,  by  her  marriage,  in  1468,  to 
James  of  Lusignan,  King  of  Cyprus,  the  branch  known  as  Cor- 
naro  of  the  Great  House  was  also  designated  by  the  name  of 
Comaro  of  the  Queen.  It  was  then,  also,  that  the  family  quar- 
tered with  their  own  the  royal  arms  of  Cyprus  (as  shown  in 
their  coat  of  arms  on  page. six  of  this  volume). 

To  attempt  even  a  short  biography  of  all  the  many  distin- 
guished members  of  this  noted  family  would  be  impossible  in  a 
work  of  this  nature ;  however,  abbreviated  sketches  of  the  lives 
of  a  few  among  those  most  celebrated  may  be  of  interest  to  the 
reader,  and  are  to  be  found  elsewhere  in  this  volume.  Few 
family  records,  in  any  country,  show  so  large  a  number  of  mem- 
bers who  have,  by  such  a  variety  of  paths,  attained  exalted  sta- 
tion. The  list  comprises  a  queen,  four  princely  doges  of  the 
Venetian  Republic,  twenty-two  procurators  of  St.  Mark,  nine 
cardinals,  patriarchs  of  Venice  and  of  Constantinople,  and  a 
host  of  names  made  illustrious  by  noteworthy  achievement.  As 
valiant  leaders  in  peace  or  war;  as  honored  councillors  and 
trusted  diplomats ;  as  reverend  senators  and  magistrates ;  in  let- 
ters ;  philosophy ;  the  sciences ;  and  the  arts,  —  the  descendants 
of  the  Comelii  have  proudly  blazoned  a  record  upon  the  scroll  of 
fame  that  few  historic  families  can  equaL 

161 


THE  ART  OF   LIVING   LONG 

Yet,  of  all  this  illustrious  number,  to  that  plain  and  unas- 
Buming  gentleman  and  true  nobleman,  Luigi  Comaro,  the  vet- 
eran author  of  "La  Vita  Sobria,"  is  due  the  greatest  distinc- 
tion—  the  gratitude  of  all  mankind. 

That  the  memory  of  the  race  of  Comaro  is  indelibly  pre- 
served in  marble  and  granite,  the  palaces,  once  the  homes  of 
illustrious  members  of  the  family;  many  of  the  churches  of 
Venice,  built  by  their  aid,  and  often  wholly  or  in  part  at  their 
expense ;  and  the  monuments,  erected  by  reverent  descendants  or 
by  a  grateful  country  to  do  honor  to  the  memory  of  individuals 
of  this  great  family,  —  emphatically  though  silently  testify. 

In  the  Church  of  Sant'  Apostoli  —  built  largely  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  family,  and  rebuilt  in  1750  —  is  a  magnificent  Cor- 
naro  Chapel,  supported  by  fanciful  Corinthian  pillars.  This 
chapel  —  erected  in  1575  —  contains  the  sepulchral  urn  of 
Marco  (Mark)  Comaro,  father  of  Queen  Caterina,  and  that  of 
her  brother,  the  famous  nobleman  Giorgio  (Greorge)  Comaro  — 
the  husband  of  Elisabetta  Morosini  —  who  died  July  31,  1527. 

In  the  magni^cent  Italian-Gothic  Church  of  Santi  Gio- 
vanni e  Paolo,  better  known  as  San  Zanipolo,  and  often  called 
The  Westminster  Abbey  of  Venice,  —  begun  in  1234,  but  not 
finished  until  1430,  —  is  the  gorgeous  mausoleum  of  the  Doge 
Marco  Comaro,  the  sarcophagus  decorated  with  roses,  the  canopy 
above  it  adorned  with  five  very  beautiful  statues,  the  work  of 
the  most  celebrated  Venetian  sculptors  of  the  Middle  Ages ;  here 
also  may  be  seen  the  sepulchral  urn  of  Pietro  (Peter)  Comaro, 
who  died  in  1361. 

In  the  Church  of  San  Salvatore,  —  begun  in  1506  and  com- 
pleted about  1534,  —  where  lie  the  remains  of  Queen  Caterina, 
in  the  center  of  a  Corinthian  portico  there  is  a  beautiful  monu- 
ment erected  to  her  memory  in  the  year  1570,  the  relief  repre- 
senting her  resigning  her  crown  to  Doge  Agostino  Barbarigo 
(the  74th  doge  of  Venice,  1486-1501)  ;  as  well  as  one  erected  in 
the  16th  century  to  three  Comaro  cardinals,  Marco,  Francesco 
(Francis),  and  Andrea  (Andrew). 

In  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Gloriosa  dei  Frari  —  de- 
signed about  1250,  and  containing  the  colossal  monument  of  Ti- 

162 


THE   COENARO   FAMILY 

tan,  unveiled  in  1853  —  is  the  chapel  of  Angelo  Comaro,  sculp- 
tured in  marble  (15th  oenturj).  In  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria 
della  Salute  —  founded  in  1631  as  a  monument  of  thanksgiving 
for  the  cessation  of  the  great  plague,  and  thus  known  as  one  of 
The  Great  Plague  Churches  of  Venice  —  is  the  sepulchral  urn  of 
Antonio  (Anthony)  Comaro,  rich  in  carvings  (16th  century). 
In  the  Church  of  San  Pietro  di  Castello  —  the  Cathedral  of 
Venice  from  the  earliest  days  of  the  Eepublic  until  1807  —  is 
the  urn  of  Filippo  (Philip)  Comaro,  very  rich  in  ornaments 
(16th  century).  In  the  Seminary  (II  Seminario)  is  the  urn  of 
another  Antonio  Cornaro,  with  bas-reliefs  representing  infants 
and  griffins  (16th  century).  There  is  also  a  Cornaro  monument 
in  the  Church  of  I  Tolentini. 

It  is  impossible  to  do  justice,  in  this  work,  to  the  beauty 
and  grandeur,  or  to  the  historic  associations,  of  the  several  mag- 
nificent palaces  in  Venice,  once  the  homes  of  members  of  the 
Comaro  family,  but  now  either  inhabited  by  strangers,  or  else 
converted  to  the  use  of  the  public  or  of  the  government;  conse- 
quently, we  shall  allude  to  them  very  briefly. 

At  that  part  of  the  venerable  city  known  as  Sant*  ApostoH, 
is  a  Cornaro  Palace  of  the  16th  century,  the  whole  fagade  of 
which  was  originally  painted  in  fresco.  At  San  Samuele,  and 
facing  upon  the  Grand  Canal,  is  an  imposing  Comaro  Palace, 
which,  in  the  early  part  of  the  18th  century,  was  the  home  of 
the  nobleman  Girolamo  (Jerome)  Comaro.  Another,  at  San 
Canciano,  was,  in  the  18th  century,  the  home  of  the  senator  and 
famous  author  Flaminio  (Flaminius)  Comaro. 

At  San  Cassiano,  in  the  Street  of  the  Queen,  is  the  Cor- 
naro Palace  of  the  Queen,  the  old  name  of  palace  and  street 
being  still  retained ;  here  was  bom,  in  1454,  Caterina  Comaro, 
afterward  Queen  of  Cyprus.  The  ancient  pile,  however,  does 
not  exist,  the  present  one  having  been  erected  upon  the  site  of 
the  old  one  in  1724.  The  new  edifice,  inelegant  in  style,  mani- 
fests the  decadence  of  art;  but  the  entrance  from  the  Grand 
Canal  is  really  imposing,  and  is  said  to  have  cost  an  immense 
Bimi.  This  structure  is  now  a  Mount  of  Piety  (Italian,  Monte 
di  pietd),  a  government  establishment,  the  object  of  which  is  to 

163 


THE  ART  OP  LIVING  LONG 

lend  money,  no  matter  how  small  in  amount,  at  only  a  nominal 
interest,  to  those  who  are  in  necessity;  this  custom,  originating 
in  Italy  in  the  15th  century,  has  since  been  adopted  in  various 
countries. 

Giovanni  (John)  Comaro,  nephew  of  Queen  Caterina, 
built,  in  1548,  upon  an  old  site  in  the  square  of  San  Polo,  what 
is  now  known  as  the  great  Comaro-Mocenigo-Revedin  Palace,  of 
which  Sammicheli  was  the  architect.  This  palace  gave  to  the 
neighboring  street  the  name  of  Comaro.  The  Comaro  Palace 
of  the  Great  House,  a  massive  and  magnificent  pile,  with  a 
Doric,  Ionic,  and  Composite  front,  was  erected  (by  Sansovino) 
in  1532,  at  San  Maurizio,  by  the  nephews  of  Queen  Caterina ;  it 
faces  the  Grand  Canal,  and  is  now  the  office  of  the  Royal  Prefect 
of  the  Province.  There  are  two  other  Comaro  Palaces  on  the 
Grand  Canal :  one  in  the  Court  of  the  Tree,  now  called  the  Cor- 
naro-Spinelli  Palace,  a  work  of  the  Renaissance ;  the  other,  at 
San  Benedetto,  at  the  comer  of  the  Canal  of  the  Mails,  is  now 
called  the  Comaro-Mocenigo  Palace,  and  is  used  as  the  office  of 
the  city's  water-works. 

The  Comaro-Piscopia  Palace  at  San  Luca  —  later  called, 
and  still  known  as,  the  Loredan  Palace,  and  now  used  as  the  pal- 
ace (or  offices)  of  the  municipality  of  Venice  —  was,  in  the  14th 
century,  the  residence  of  Federico  Comaro,  whose  guest  Peter 
of  Lusignan,  King  of  Cyprus,  was  in  1363  and  1364.  To  show 
his  gratitude,  in  addition  to  the  grant  of  the  fief  of  Piscopia  in 
his  kingdom,  the  King  created  Comaro  a  knight  of  an  ancient 
Cyprian  order,  having  for  its  motto  "To  maintain  loyalty** 
("Pour  loyaute  maintenir" ) .  To  perpetuate  the  memory  of 
this  visit  of  the  King,  Comaro  caused  to  be  graven  upon  the 
front  of  his  palace  on  the  Grand  Canal,  the  royal  arms  of  Cy- 
prus beside  those  of  the  Comaros,  together  with  the  knightly 
emblem  of  his  order ;  there  they  may  be  seen  to  this  day.  The 
exact  age  and  origin  of  this  palace,  an  early  Byzantine  one,  are 
not  known ;  but  it  is  believed  to  date  back  as  early  as  the  10th 
or  11th  century.  In  ^'The  Stones  of  Venice"  Ruskin  says  of  it: 
"Though  not  conspicuous  and  often  passed  with  neglect,  the 
Loredan  Palace,  will,  I  believe,  be  felt  at  last,  by  all  who  exam- 
ine it  carefully,  to  be  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  palaces  in  the 

164 


THE  COENARO  FAMILY 

whole  extent  of  the  Grand  Canal.  It  has  been  restored  often, 
once  in  the  Gothic,  once  in  the  Renaissance  times  —  some  writers 
say  even  rebuilt ;  but,  if  so,  rebuilt  in  its  old  form."  It  was  in 
this  palace,  in  the  year  1646,  that  that  marvel  of  her  age,  Elena 
Lucrezia  Comaro,  was  bom. 

When  the  great  name  of  Comaro  and  the  prosperity  of  the 
family  were  at  their  zenith,  their  sumptuous  palaces  were  filled 
with  memorials  of  the  glorious  history  of  their  ancestors.  These 
mute  testimonials  to  the  prowess  of  warriors,  as  well  as  to  the 
victors  in  more  peaceful  pursuits,  were  to  be  seen  in  an  abund- 
ance more  than  sufficient  to  satisfy  the  most  ambitious. 

Nor  will  the  visitor  in  Venice,  once  familiar  with  its 
streets,  have  any  reason  for  ignorance  of  the  existence  of  the 
name  of  Comaro;  for  here,  too,  will  he  be  confronted  by 
mementos  of  this  ancient  family. 

At  San  Maurizio,  the  footway  and  bridge  known  as  Comaro 
Zaguri  lead  to  the  Comaro  Palace  of  the  Great  House,  as  the 
Street  of  the  Queen,  at  San  Cassiano,  leads  to  the  Comaro  Pal- 
ace of  the  Queen ;  and  the  street  which  gives  access  to  the  Cor- 
naro  Palace  that  faces  on  the  Grand  Canal,  at  San  Samuele,  is 
still  called  Comaro.  Another,  bearing  the  family  name,  is 
Comaro  Street,  near  the  square  of  San  Polo,  named  after  the 
palace  in  the  square. 

The  Comaro  family  began  to  be  interested  in  the  Paduan 
country  for  the  first  time,  so  far  as  is  known  by  the  records,  in 
the  year  1406,  when  Francesco  Comaro  became  the  proprietor  of 
a  portion  of  the  confiscated  property  of  the  ancient  lords  of  Car- 
rara—  from  1318  to  1405  the  sovereign  lords  of  Padua.  The 
palace  on  the  Via  Melchiorre  Cesarotti  in  Padua,  built  by  Luigi 
Comaro,  is  still  in  existence,  and  is  known  as  the  Comaro  Pal- 
aoei  In  the  Church  of  San  Antonio  in  Padua,  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  buildings  in  Italy,  —  begun  about  1230  and  com- 
pleted in  1307,  —  there  is  a  monument  dedicated  to  Caterino 
Comaro,  General  of  the  Republic  of  Venice  in  the  wars  against 
the  Turks. 

165 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING   LONG 

When  Caterina  became  Queen  of  Cyprus,  the  power  of  the 
Comaro  family  in  that  kingdom  was  naturally  increased.  It  is 
certain,  however,  that  they  were  not  only  residents  of  the  island, 
but  possessed  considerable  influence  there,  for  a  long  time  prior 
to  this  event;  and  it  is  known  that,  in  the  middle  of  the  14th 
century,  their  wealth  and  position  were  such  that  the  king  re- 
sorted to  them  for  a  considerable  loan  of  money.  At  the  court 
of  Cyprus,  Venice  was  regularly  represented  by  a  consul;  and 
some  contemporaneous  documents  go  to  prove  the  zeal  which  the 
Venetian  Senate  showed  in  having  his  appointed  salary  paid,  and 
in  seeing,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  debts  contracted  by  that 
court  with  Venetian  merchants  and  bankers  should  be  discharged. 
In  one  of  these  documents,  dated  September  17,  1455,  it  is  de- 
plored that  "injustice  should  have  been  committed,  to  the  damage 
of  the  heirs  and  claimants  of  Giovanni  Comaro" ;  and,  further- 
more, that  "the  noble  citizen  Marco  Comaro,"  father  of  Cat- 
erina, "should  have  been  injured  in  his  rights  in  not  receiving 
that  which  the  king  owed  him."  The  tutelage  of  Venice  over 
Cyprus  was,  indeed,  so  diligent  as  to  interest  the  king  in  the 
solution  of  a  question  of  water  necessary  for  the  good  culture 
of  the  sugar-cane  in  the  fief  of  the  Cornaros. 

But  with  the  glory,  the  power,  and  the  commanding  in- 
fluence of  The  Queen  of  the  Adriatic,  that,  too,  of  the  race  of  the 
Comari  has  well-nigh  departed.  The  fortunes  and  personality 
of  a  house  whose  opulence  and  greatness  were  seldom,  if  ever, 
surpassed  by  any  of  their  countrymen,  and  the  lives  of  whose 
sons  and  daughters  have  furnished  themes  for  an  almost  endless 
number  of  writers,  are  now  but  a  memory.  In  Venice  there  are, 
to-day,  five  families  who  bear  the  name,  and  who,  as  descendants 
of  the  old  race,  are  recognized  as  belonging  to  the  Venetian 
patriciate.  Not  a  Comaro,  however,  lives  in  the  halls  of  his 
ancestors.  But  the  patriotic  fire  of  the  lords  of  generations  ago 
still  bums  in  the  breasts  of  their  children ;  proud  of  the  history 
of  their  family,  they  still  hold  Queen  Caterina  especially  dear ; 
and,  in  order  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  that  noble  woman,  a 
custom  was  long  since  instituted  to  give  the  name  of  Caterino  to 
a  male  child,  in  the  event  of  the  denial,  to  any  family,  of  a  girl 
baby. 

166 


THE  CORNARO  FAMILY 


Among  the  many  portraits  of  the  members  of  this  cele- 
brated family  —  not  elsewhere  mentioned  in  this  work  —  is  that 
of  Giorgio  Comaro,  in  the  collection  of  the  Earl  of  Carlisle ;  and 
The  Comaro  Family,  in  Alnwick  Castle,  the  baronial  residence 
of  the  dukes  of  Northumberland,  —  both  by  Titian. 


167 


Man's  rich  with  little,  were  his  judgment  true; 
Nature  is  frugal,  and  her  wants  are  few; 
These  few  wants,  answered,  hring  sincere  delights; 
Bui  fools  create  themselves  new  appetites. 

At  thirty,  man  suspects  himself  a  fool. 
Knows  it  at  forty,  and  reforms  his  plan; 
At  fifty,  chides  his  infamous  delay. 
Pushes  his  prudent  purpose  to  resolve. 
In  all  the  magnanimity  of  thought; 
Resolves,  and  re-resolves,  then  dies  the  same. 
And  why  ?    Because  he  thinks  himself  inmwrtal. 
All  men  think  all  men  mortal  hut  themselves. 

— Edward  Young. 


SOME  ACCOUNT 


OF 


EMINENT  MEMBERS 


OP 


The  Cornaro  Family 


PILGRIM, 

Fbom  Lives  thus  spent  thy  eaethly  Duties  leabn  ; 
Fbom  Fancy's  Dreams  to  active  Virtue  turn  : 
Let  Freedom,  Friendship,  Faith,  thy  Soul  engage. 
And  serve,  like  them,  thy  Country  and  thy  Age.* 


CATERINA  (CATHERINE)  CORNARO,  one  of  the  most 
illustrious  women  of  the  Renaissance,  was  the  daughter  of 
Marco  Cornaro  —  grandson  of  the  Doge  Marco  Cornaro  — 
and  Fiorenza,  his  wife;  and  was  bom  in  the  city  of  Venice, 
November  25,  1454,  in  that  Cornaro  Palace  to  which  —  as  well 
as  to  the  present  one,  built  in  the  18th  century  on  the  site  of  the 

•  See  Note  N 

169 


THE  ART  OF   LIVING  LONG 

ancient  structure  —  the  fact  of  her  birth  and  of  her  subsequent 
elevation  to  royal  power  gave  the  name  of  the  Comaro  Palace  of 
the  Queen,  and,  to  the  street  in  which  it  is  located,  the  name  of 
the  Street  of  the  Queen. 

Her  brilliant,  though  mournful,  history  has  afforded  a 
theme  for  many  writers  in  all  languages.  Giving  evidence  at  an 
early  age  of  rare  qualities  of  mind,  character,  and  person,  —  for 
there  were  few,  if  any,  of  her  countrywomen  who  excelled  her  in 
charm  and  grace,  —  she  was  educated  with  the  scrupulous  care 
due  the  daughter  of  a  royal  house ;  as  on  her  mother's  side  she 
had  an  imperial  ancestry  by  reason  of  her  descent  from  the  Com- 
neni  emperors  of  Trebizond.  She  was  married  July  10,  1468, 
—  when  not  yet  fifteen  years  of  age,  —  with  the  most  gorgeous 
and  extraordinary  ceremonies  and  public  rejoicings,  to  James  of 
Lusignan,  King  of  Cyprus,  whose  love  for  her  was  first  aroused 
on  seeing  her  portrait  in  the  hands  of  her  uncle,  Andrea  Cor- 
naro ;  at  the  same  time  she  was  adopted  by  the  Venetian  Senate 
as  The  Daughtee  of  the  Republic,  in  order  that  her  rank 
might  equal  that  of  her  husband ;  and  a  dowry  of  one  hundred 
thousand  golden  ducats  was  presented  to  her. 

In  1473,  on  the  death  of  her  husband  in  his  thirty-third 
year,  she  succeeded  him  on  the  throne  as  Queen  of  Cyprus ;  in 
August,  1474,  she  suffered  the  loss  of  the  infant  Prince  James, 
her  only  child  —  bom  August,  1473  ;  and  after  a  troubled  reign 
of  sixteen  years,  —  during  which  time  she  acquired  the  well- 
deserved  reputation  of  a  very  superior,  wise,  energetic,  liberal 
woman,  —  worried  by  political  jealousies  and  intrigues,  she  ab- 
dicated, February  26,  1489,  in  favor  of  the  Venetian  Republic. 
On  her  return  to  Venice,  she  was  received  with  great  pomp  and 
consideration,  the  reigning  doge  himself  meeting  her  in  the  cele- 
brated historic  Bucentaur.*  The  beautiful  country-seat  and 
castle  of  Asolo,  nineteen  miles  from  Treviso  and  still  in  exist- 
ence, was  given  her  in  sovereignty ;  this,  together  with  her  palace 
in  Venice,  she  made  her  home  for  the  remainder  of  her  life, 
spending  her  time  in  works  of  charity,  in  the  cultivation  of  her 
rural  retreat,  and  in  the  pleasures  of  art  and  literature  —  main- 
taining at  Asolo  a  court  for  poets,  scholars,  and  artists. 
•  See  Note  O. 

170 


ILLUSTRIOUS    CORNAEOS 

Her  death  occurred  at  Venice,  July  10,  1510 ;  and  the  body 
of  the  dead  Queen  was  followed  by  all  the  dignitaries  of  Church 
and  State,  as  well  as  by  a  vast  concourse  of  citizens,  to  its  rest- 
ing-place in  the  Comaro  Chapel  in  the  Church  of  Sant'  Apos- 
toli ;  whence  it  was  removed  in  1660,  and  placed  in  her  mauso- 
leum in  the  right  transept  of  the  Church  of  San  Salvatore, 
where  it  now  lies.  The  inscription,  in  Latin,  plainly  marks  the 
final  home  of  the  remains  of  "Catherine,  Queen  of  Cyprus,  Jeru- 
salem, and  Armenia." 

Her  eminent  relative,  Cardinal  Bembo,  in  his  *'GU  Aso- 
laniy  pays  a  high  tribute  to  her  intellectual  qualities,  as  well  as 
her  many  womanly  virtues.  Her  portrait,  taken  at  the  age  of 
eighteen,  in  her  crown  and  queenly  robes,  was  painted  by  Titian ; 
another,  by  Veronese,  hangs  in  the  Belvedere  at  Vienna ;  while 
the  one  by  Pordenone  is  in  the  Dresden  Gallery.  A  magnificent 
painting  of  her  by  Makart  hangs  in  the  National  Gallery  at 
Berlin ;  in  it,  as  Queen  of  Cyprus,  she  is  seen  receiving  the  prof- 
fered homage  of  the  Venetian  patricians. 

ELENA  LUCKEZLi  (HELEN  LUCKETIA)  COR- 
NARO  PISCOPIA,  one  of  the  most  accomplished  and  illus- 
trious women  of  her  day,  was  bom  at  Venice,  June  5,  1646,  in 
the  Comaro  Piscopia  Palace  —  now  the  Loredan.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  Giovanni  Battista  (John  Baptist)  Cornaro,  Pro- 
curator of  St.  Mark,  and  of  Zanetta  Boni,  his  wife. 

Naturally  of  a  very  retiring  as  well  as  devotional  disposi- 
tion, she  wished  to  enter  some  religious  order ;  but  her  father's 
entreaties  altered  her  purpose.  For,  recognizing,  while  she  was 
still  a  child,  her  extraordinary  gifts,  he  determined  that  nothing 
should  interfere  with  his  cherished  ambition  that  his  family 
should  possess,  in  the  person  of  his  beautiful  daughter,  — 
though  so  delicate  and  modest,  and  averse  to  the  world  or  to  any 
kind  of  publicity,  —  the  most  learned  woman  of  her  day.  This 
purpose  he  realized,  albeit  at  the  early  sacrifice  of  the  health, 
and,  indeed,  of  the  life,  of  the  innocent  victim  of  his  paternal 
and  ancestral  pride. 

171 


THE  ART  OP   LIVING   LONG 

Although  entirely  devoid  of  vrorldly  ambition,  yet,  in  order 
that  she  might  not  disappoint  the  parent  whose  every  hope  was 
centered  in  his  daughter's  triumph,  she  devoted  all  her  energies 
to  the  task  assigned  her;  so  that,  such  were  her  wonderful 
powers  of  mind  and  memory,  she  soon  excelled  in  every  branch 
of  learning.  She  acquired  a  perfect  knowledge  of  many  of  the 
modem  languages,  —  writing  them  with  ease  and  speaking  them 
fluently,  —  as  well  as  of  Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  and  Arabic. 
Her  natural  taste  for  poetry  and  music  was  so  highly  cultivated, 
that  she  sang,  in  a  sweet  and  flexible  voice,  her  own  verses  in 
various  languages,  set  to  music  of  her  own  composition,  and  to 
her  own  accompaniment,  either  on  the  viol,  harp,  or  harpsichord. 
She  became  a  perfect  mistress  of  many  of  the  arts  and  sciences, 
and  of  ancient  and  modem  history,  including,  of  course,  that  of 
her  own  country  and  family.  In  theology,  philosophy,  and  dia- 
lectics she  was  no  less  accomplished.  In  a  word,  her  response  to 
her  father's  appeal  was  so  sincere  that,  although  deaf  to  the  ap- 
plause of  all,  —  nay,  embarrassed  by  the  admiration  she  con- 
stantly excited,  distasteful  to  her  as  it  was  unavoidable,  —  she 
became  a  miracle  of  learning. 

On  a  certain  occasion,  the  haughty  Venetian  Senate  went  so 
far  as  to  suspend  an  important  session,  in  order  that  they  might 
go  in  a  body  to  hear  a  disputation  in  which,  with  that  eloquence 
for  which  she  was  noted,  she  was  engaged  in  the  presence  of  an 
illustrious  gathering,  as  was  the  fashion  of  the  time.  Contrary 
to  her  wishes,  she  was  created  a  master  of  arts  and  doctor  of 
philosophy  by  the  renowned  University  of  Padua,  —  founded 
early  in  the  13th  century  by  the  Emperor  Frederick  II.,  —  re- 
ceiving the  title  of  The  Uitalteeable.  The  ceremony,  which 
took  place  June  25,  1678,  in  the  Cathedral  of  Padua,  was 
attended  by  illustrious  scholars  of  all  countries,  and  was  wit- 
nessed by  an  immense  multitude,  attracted  by  the  unwonted 
spectacle.  She  was  also  elected  to  membership  in  all  the  prin- 
cipal literary  societies  of  Italy.  At  Home,  she  was  admitted  at 
the  University,  and  was  entitled  The  Humble;  and  princes 
and  representatives  of  all  nations  paid  homage  to  her  learning 
and  virtues.    Her  hand  was  asked  in  marriage  by  some  of  the 

172 


ILLUSTRIOUS    CORNAEOS 

most  noted  men  of  her  time;  all  of  these  offers,  however,  in 
obedience  to  a  resolution  made  in  her  girlhood,  she  declined. 

Her  uninterrupted  application  to  her  studies,  but  especially 
the  atmosphere  of  unwelcome  publicity  in  which  she  had  always 
lived,  —  so  uncongenial  and  often  painful  to  her  sensitive  na- 
ture, —  completed  the  ruin  of  her  naturally  delicate  health.  Al- 
though anticipating  her  death  to  be  not  far  distant,  yet,  to  fur- 
ther please  her  father,  —  blind  to  her  critical  condition,  —  she 
wrote  eulogies  upon  many  of  the  most  eminent  personages  of  her 
day;  these  were  followed  by  her  remarkable  panegyric  on  the 
Kepublic  of  Venice. 

But  the  replies  to  these  final  efforts,  which  had  been  accom- 
plished at  such  a  fearful  cost  to  her  health  and  life,  found  the 
illustrious  maiden  stretched  upon  a  bed  of  pain,  which,  in  a  short 
time,  proved  to  be  her  couch  of  death  —  the  release  from  her  suf- 
ferings coming  to  her  in  the  city  of  Padua,  July  26,  1684. 
From  that  day  to  the  29th,  —  the  day  of  her  funeral,  —  when 
her  body  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  Church  of  Santa  Giustina,  the 
city,  with  all  affairs  suspended,  presented  the  spectacle  of  a  uni- 
versal, heartfelt  grief,  so  deeply  in  the  affections  of  all  was  she 
enshrined.  Her  death  was  recorded  by  poetical  effusions  from 
the  learned  of  Europe.  In  an  eloquent  oration,  pronounced  at  a 
funeral  solenmity  performed  in  her  honor  at  Kome,  she  was 
celebrated  as  triumphing  over  three  monsters,  Pride,  Luxury, 
and  Ignorance.  At  the  foot  of  the  staircase  on  the  right  of  the 
entrance  to  the  University  of  Padua,  is  a  statue  erected  to  her 
memory  in  1773. 

The  first  edition  of  her  works  was  published  at  Parma  in 
1688. 

MARCO  (MARK)  CORNARO,  the  69th  dog©  of  Venice, 
held  that  princely  and  historic  office  from  July  21,  1365,  to 
January  13,  1368,  when  he  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-two  —  one 
of  the  most  famous  doges  of  The  Golden  Book.*  During  his 
term  the  Venetians  waged  a  bitter  war  against  the  Turks  and, 
also,  subdued  the  rebellion  in  Candia.  His  tomb  is  in  the 
Church  of  Santi  Giovanni  e  Paolo. 
•  See  Note  P 

173 


THE  AET  OF   LIVING  LONG 

GIOVANNI  (JOHN)— I.  — COKNAKO,  the  96th 
doge  of  Venice,  was  elected  January  4,  1625,  as  the  successor  of 
Francesco  Contarini  (doge,  1623-1624).  During  his  reign  the 
Venetians  defended  Mantua  against  the  Imperial  army;  about 
which  period  a  severe  plague  raged  in  Venice  and  throughout 
northern  Italy.  At  this  time,  also,  occurred  a  bitter  feud  be- 
tween the  powerful  Zeno  family  —  descendants  of  Renier  Zeno, 
the  46th  doge  of  Venice^  1253-1268  —  and  his  own.  Comaro 
died  December  23, 1629. 

FRANCESCO  (FRANCIS)  CORNARO,  the  lOlst  doge 
of  Venice,  was  bom  May  6,  1585.  He  was  the  son  of  Doge  Gio- 
vanni (I.)  Comaro,  and  was  chosen  to  his  exalted  office  May  17, 
1656.  During  his  very  short  term  —  he  died  June  5  of  the  same 
year  —  the  Venetians  continued  their  victories  over  the  Turks. 

GIOVANNI  (JOHN)— II.-— CORNARO,  the  111th 
doge  of  Venice,  was  bom  August  4,  1647.  His  mother,  Cornelia 
Contarini,  was  of  that  illustrious  family  which  gave  the  great 
Republic  eight  of  its  one  hundred  and  twenty  doges,  a  greater 
number  than  can  be  claimed  for  any  other  family.  He  was 
elected  doge  May  22, 1709.  During  his  administration  the  Turks 
made  war  on  Venice  and,  in  1715,  took  the  Morea.  He  conclud- 
ed these  hostilities  by  the  peace  of  Passarowitz,  July  21,  1718. 
It  was  during  his  term  that  Venice  lost  her  last  possessions  in  the 
island  of  Candia.  He  died  August  21,  1722.  He  married  his 
relative,  Laura  Comaro,  who  survived  him,  dying  in  May,  1729. 
He  also  left  three  sons,  Francesco,  Nicolo  (Nicholas),  and  Al- 
vise. 

FEDERICO  (FREDERICK)  CORNARO,  one  of  the 
three  Venetian  commanders  in  the  struggle  with  the  Genoese 
known  as  the  War  of  Chioggia  (1379-1381),  impoverished  him- 
self by  the  voluntary  sacrifice  of  his  princely  fortune  to  the  use 
of  his  country.  In  August,  1379,  when  it  was  thought  the 
Genoese  might  attack  the  city,  arms  were  distributed  to  the  peo- 
ple, and  Comaro  was  placed  in  command. 

174 


ILLUSTRIOUS    COENAROS 

GIOEGIO  (GEORGE)  CORNARO,  nephew  of  the  Doge 
Marco  Comaro,  held  during  his  lifetime  many  positions  of 
trust  and  responsibility,  both  civil  and  military.  He  was  a 
nobleman  of  sterling  worth  and  considerable  influence,  his  ex- 
alted patriotism  inspiring  ceaseless  efforts  for  the  welfare  of  his 
country ;  and  such  was  the  exposure  consequent  to  his  zeal  in  his 
profession  of  arms,  that  it  caused  the  sacrifice  of  his  health,  and 
finally  of  his  life,  in  her  service.  He  died  December,  1439, 
and  his  remains  were  followed  by  the  entire  population  of  Ven- 
ice to  their  final  resting-place  in  the  Comaro  Chapel  in  the 
Church  of  Sant'  Apostoli. 

ANDREA  (ANDREW)  CORNARO,  a  Venetian  noble- 
man, and  uncle  of  Caterina,  Queen  of  Cyprus,  was  an  extensive 
trader  in  that  island.  He  and  his  nephew,  Marco  Bembo,  were 
murdered  during  the  political  disturbances  subsequent  to  the 
death  of  Caterina's  husband,  King  James. 

MARCO  (MARK)  CORNARO,  son  of  Giorgio  Comaro 
and  Elisabetta  Morosini  his  wife,  and  nephew  of  Queen  Cat- 
erina, became  Patriarch  of  Constantinople.  He  was  a  very  em- 
inent man  and  of  great  service  to  Venice.  He  died  at  that  city, 
July  20,  1524. 

FRANCESCO  (FRANCIS)  CORNARO  was  bom  in 
1488.  In  early  years  he  followed  a  military  life,  and  became 
distinguished  as  a  leader  in  the  army  of  Venice  in  the  wars  — 
in  which  his  country  became  involved  —  caused  by  the  rival  am- 
bitions of  Francis  I.,  King  of  France,  and  Charles  V.,  Emperor 
of  Germany.  When  peace  was  secured  he  abandoned  the  pro- 
fession of  arms  and  devoted  himself  to  politics  and  literature, 
becoming  the  ambassador  of  the  Republic  to  the  court  of  Charles 
V.  He  was  a  man  of  great  learning,  and,  in  1527,  was  created 
a  cardinal.  He  died  September,  1543,  in  his  fifty-fifth  year,  and 
was  buried  in  the  Church  of  San  Salvatore,  where  his  monu- 
ment may  still  be  seen. 

175 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

ALVISE  (LOUIS)  CORNARO,  Knight  of  Malta  and 
Grand  Prior  of  Cyprus,  was  bom  February  12,  1516,  and  died 
at  Rome,  May  10,  1584. 

FEDERICO  (FREDERICK)  CORNARO,  son  of  the 
Doge  Giovanni  (I.)  Comaro,  was  made  Patriarch  of  Venice  in 
1632.  He  was  Grand  Prior  of  Cyprus,  and  died  June  5,  1653, 
at  the  age  of  seventy-eight. 

GIROLAMO  (JEROME)  CORNARO  was  bom  June  25, 
1632 ;  he  succeeded  the  illustrious  Francesco  Morosini  as  Cap- 
tain-General of  the  Venetian  army  when,  in  1688,  the  latter 
was  elected  the  108th  doge  of  the  Republic  —  the  last  of  that 
family  to  attain  the  ducal  dignity.  Cornaro's  valuable  services 
to  his  country  were,  however,  cut  short  in  1690  by  his  untimely 
death  from  fever  at  Valona,  —  a  seaport  town  in  Albania,  Eu- 
ropean Turkey,  —  which  the  Turks  had  held  since  1464,  and 
the  Venetians,  under  his  command,  had  besieged  and  recovered. 
His  loss  was  regarded  as  a  great  calamity. 

GIORGIO  BASILIC  (GEORGE  BASIL)  CORNARO, 
a  younger  brother  of  the  Doge  Giovanni  (II.)  Cornaro,  was 
bom  August  1, 1658.  His  early  years  were  spent  in  the  military 
service  of  his  country;  abandoning  this,  he  entered  the  field  of 
politics,  holding  many  offices  of  considerable  responsibility,  for 
which  his  great  learning,  and  the  experience  gained  by  exten- 
sive foreign  travel,  eminently  qualified  him.  In  1692  he  repre- 
sented Venice  at  the  court  of  Portugal,  and  was  later  tendered 
the  office  of  ambassador  to  the  French  king;  this  honor,  how- 
ever, he  declined,  preferring  to  embrace  an  ecclesiastical  life.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  order  of  Knights  of  Malta,  a  religious  and 
military  order  instituted  in  the  11th  century;  was  also  Grand 
Prior  of  Cyprus,  an  office  hereditary  in  his  family;  and  was 
made  a  cardinal  July  22, 1697.    He  died  August  10, 1722. 

FLAMINIO  (FLAMINIUS)  CORNARO  was  bom  at 
Venice,  Febmary  4,  1693,  where  he  died  December  28,  1778. 

176 


ILLUSTRIOUS    CORNAEOS 

He  was  a  Venetian  Senator,  and  was  distinguished  for  great 
learning,  attaining  eminence  as  a  hagiographer,  historian,  and 
antiquarian.  He  was  the  author,  in  1749,  of  a  valuable  work 
on  the  churches  of  Venice  (15  vols.),  and  of  another  on  those  of 
Torcello  (3  vols.).  His  home  was  the  Comaro  Palace  at  San 
Canciano,  in  Venice. 

ANDEEA  (ANDREW)  CORNARO  was  Governor  of  the 
island  of  Candia,  and  fell  while  fighting  valiantly  at  Retimo,  on 
the  northern  coast  of  the  island. 


177 


Health  is,  indeed,  so  necessary  to  all  the  duties  as 
well  as  pleasures  of  life,  that  the  crime  of  squandering 
it  is  equal  to  the  folly;  and  he  that  for  a  short  gratiftcor 
tion  brings  weakness  and  diseases  upon  himself,  and  for 
the  pleasure  of  a  few  years  passed  in  the  tumults  of  diver- 
sion and  clamors  of  merriment  condemns  the  maturer  and 
more  experienced  part  of  his  life  to  the  chamber  and  the 
couch,  may  be  justly  reproached,  not  only  as  a  spend- 
thrift of  his  happiness,  but  as  a  robber  of  the  public;  as  a 
wretch  that  has  voluntarily  disqualified  himself  for  the 
business  of  his  station,  and  refused  that  part  which  Prov- 
idence assigns  him  in  the  general  task  of  human  na- 
ture. —  Samuel  Johnson. 


A  EULOGY 


UPON 


LUIGI   CORNARO 


BT 


BARTOLOMEO  GAMBA  * 

Delivered  on  the  Tenth  Day  of  August,  1817,  in  the 

Royal  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  of  Venice,  on 

The  Occasion  of  the  Annual 

Distribution  of 

Prizes 

OIT  THIS  most  impressive  occasion,  amid  these  appropriate 
surroundings,  after  the  dignified  speeches  you  have 
heard,  I  shrink  from  addressing  you,  my  Lord  Count  the 
Governor,  supreme  magistrates  of  this  city,  most  learned  pro- 
fessors, worthy  scholars  —  all  of  you,  my  kind  hearers ;  but  I 
speak  in  grateful  submission  to  the  honorable  charge  laid  upon 
me,  in  obedience  to  the  statutes  of  this  Koyal  Academy,  which 
direct  that  every  year  shall  be  renewed  the  praises  of  those 
among  our  national  geniuses  who  have  so  distinguished  them- 
selves as  to  be  most  deserving  in  the  three  divine  arts  of  design. 

To-day,  since  this  august  temple  of  the  Muses  is  more  re- 
splendent than  ever,  he  should  not  presume  to  attempt  fulfilling 
this  noble  office  who  but  imperfectly  knows  and  understands 

♦  See  Note  Q 

179 


THE  AET  OP  LIVING  LONG 

their  alluring  graces.  As  for  me,  to  come  forth  as  little  inglori- 
ously  as  possible  from  this  difficult  undertaking,  I  intend  to  de- 
vote my  efforts  to  another  object;  and  I  trust  that  I  shall  see 
your  courtesy  smile  upon  me,  if,  leaving  aside  pencil,  rule,  and 
chisel,  I  look  rather  toward  those  who  protect  artists,  and  call 
your  attention  to  a  most  remarkable  Maecenas.*  I  shall  thus, 
overcoming  any  excessive  timidity,  be  able  to  entertain  you  a  lit- 
tle regarding  the  advantages  which  students  of  the  Academy  may 
derive  from  this  kind  of  tutelage ;  and  I  shall  present  to  you,  in 
his  proper  light,  a  great  man  of  the  sixteenth  century  who  be- 
longed to  the  order  of  the  Venetian  patriciate. 

LUIGI  COKNAKO  is  known  to  all  cultured  nations  by 
the  famous  abstemiousness  of  his  long  career  and  by  the  golden 
rules  he  formulated  concerning  the  temperate  life ;  but  it  is  not 
perhaps  so  well  known  how  deeply  versed  he  was  in  the  arts,  how 
much  he  loved  artists,  and  how  faithfully  he  labored  in  their  in- 
terest. I  shall  speak  now  of  these  merits  of  his,  and  I  shall  do 
it  with  the  rapidity  of  a  hasty  traveler  who  does  but  lightly  ob- 
serve and  examine.  If  I  turn  my  eyes  upon  Comaro  in  prefer- 
ence to  so  many  other  great  men,  who,  for  the  good  of  the  arts, 
were  nurtured  upon  these  shores,  I  trust  the  choice  will  be  ap- 
proved ;  since  it  will  bear  upon  a  subject  honorable  to  our  fellow- 
citizens,  pleasing  to  our  worthy  professors,  useful  to  these  valiant 
youths  —  one  which  may,  in  fine,  be  heard  patiently  by  every 
kind  and  gentle  souL 

Of  the  youthful  years  of  our  Comaro,  spent  in  Padua,  there 
is  little  to  say,  and  that  little  were  better  left  unsaid.  Although 
well  trained  in  excellent  studies,  as  became  a  gentleman  of  fine 
intellect,  he  admits  that  he  soon  put  his  studies  aside,  and  wasted 
his  time  in  thoughtlessness  and  excesses;  from  which  cause  he 
contracted  infirm  health  and  such  bad  habits  that,  having  arrived 
at  the  age  of  thirty-five,  he  had  nothing  left  to  hope  for  but  that 
he  might  end  in  death  the  sufferings  of  a  worn-out  and  discon- 
solate life.  Let  us  not  linger,  my  dear  young  men,  over  this 
state  of  affairs,  which,  happily,  we  shall  soon  see  corrected;  but 

*  See  Note  R 

180 


A  EULOGY  UPON  CORNARO 

let  118  learn,  by  his  example,  how  important  it  is  to  follow  the 
straight  path  of  virtue  and  study.  Though  the  contrary  way  of 
dissipation  and  idleness  may  seem,  to  some,  to  be  one  of  peace 
and  calmness,  in  reality  it  is  nothing  but  war  and  storm. 

When  he  had  grown  ripe  in  years  and  judgment,  his  inborn 
love  having  unfolded  toward  those  sister  arts  which  are  the  dear- 
est ornaments  of  our  native  land,  Comaro  found  in  them  the 
truest,  most  useful,  and  most  delightful  entertainment.  Let  us 
listen  to  the  substance  of  his  words :  "O  most  honorable  gentle- 
men, great  in  intellect,  in  manners,  and  in  letters,  and  you  who 
excel  in  some  other  quality,  come  with  me  to  honor  the  arts  and 
artists,  and,  in  doing  so,  obtain  satisfaction  and  comfort ! . . .  I 
live  in  the  most  beautiful  part  of  this  noble  and  learned  city  of 
Padua,  and  derive  from  it  a  thousand  advantages.  I  build  ac- 
cording to  architecture,  enjoy  my  several  gardens,  and  always 
find  something  to  delight  me. ...  In  April  and  May,  as  also  in 
September  and  October,  I  find  other  pleasures  in  enjoying  a 
country-seat  of  mine  among  the  Euganean  Hills,  —  in  the  finest 
site  thereof,  —  with  its  fountains  and  gardens,  and,  above  all,  its 
commodious  and  beautiful  abode;  also  my  villa  in  the  plain, 
which  is  very  fine,  with  streets  and  a  square,  and  a  church  much 
honored ; . . .  a  coimtry,  which,  once  deserted  on  account  of  bad 
air  and  marshy  waters,  is  now,  by  my  labors,  all  rich  in  inhab- 
itants and  fields  most  fertile ;  so  that  I  may  say,  with  truth,  that 
in  this  spot  I  have  given  to  God  an  altar,  a  temple,  and  souls  to 
adore  Him. . . .  Here  I  take  pleasure  with  men  of  fine  intellect 
—  architects,  painters,  sculptors,  musicians,  and  agriculturists ; 
for,  indeed,  with  such  men  our  age  is  abundantly  furnished." 

And  you  well  know,  gentlemen,  how  fruitful  that  age  was 
in  fine  minds.  Happy  age!  Private  individuals  vied  with 
noblemen  and  princes  to  rejoice  the  heavens  with  splendid  light ; 
and,  thanks  to  this  union  of  choice  spirits,  the  geniu*  of  Italy 
was  aroused,  literature  came  to  the  fore,  the  arts  turived,  and  a 
refined  delicacy  was  diffused  into  every  liberal  study.  Let  us 
not  stir  from  this  incomparable  Venice  of  ours  and  we  will  see 
that,  if  her  noblest  citizens  —  a  Daniel  Barbaro,  a  Cardinal 
Bembo,  a  Doge  Gritti,  a  Cardinal  Grimani,  a  Giorgio  Trissino 

181 


THE  ART  OF  UVING  LONG 

of  Vicenza,  and  our  own  Comaro  —  had  not  lived,  the  world 
would  perhaps  have  never  seen  a  Titian,  a  Paolo  [Veronese] ,  a 
Sammicheli,  a  Palladio.  How  many,  indeed,  are  the  opportuni- 
ties of  an  intelligent  protector !  Besides  showing  himself  liberal 
of  his  substance,  he  converses  with  his  learned  friend,  whose  in- 
ventions and  fancies  are  thus  fostered ;  he  goes  to  the  office  of  the 
rich  merchant,  into  whom  he  transfuses  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  he  himself  is  filled ; . . .  nor  does  he  neglect  any  occasion 
whatsoever  that  the  arts  may  gloriously  flourish.  In  Greece,  the 
mother  of  all  elegance  and  philosophy,  the  Porticos  and  the 
Piraeus  became  earth  and  brambles,  once  the  ages  of  Pericles 
and  Alexander  were  past ;  and  in  earth  and  brambles  the  Laocoon 
and  the  Apollo  for  centuries  lay  buried. 

Among  the  many  artists  for  whom  Comaro  entertained  a 
strong  affection,  —  proofs  of  which  he  has  left  us,  —  I  shall 
limit  myself  to  telling  you  of  one.  Giovanni  Maria  Falconetto* 
of  Verona,  who  excelled  as  painter,  architect,  and  sculptor, 
flourished  in  his  day.  This  man  was  a  good  speaker,  frank  and 
pleasant;  and,  after  having  wandered  hither  and  thither,  he 
found  a  refuge  in  the  hospitable  home  of  our  Comaro,  who  of- 
fered him  the  most  generous  recognition.  These  two  souls  were 
soon  united  in  close  fellowship ;  and  there  followed  many  learned 
and  agreeable  conversations,  and  the  most  valued  friendship  and 
intimacy. 

A  large  collection  of  drawings,  which  Falconetto  Lad 
brought  with  him  from  Rome,  so  fascinated  Comaro  with  the 
attractions  of  that  queenly  city  that  he  insisted  upon  going  to 
visit  it,  in  company  with  his  friend.  He  departed  for  Eome, 
rich  in  expectations ;  most  rich  in  knowledge,  he  returned  to  his 
beloved  Padua.  There  he  erected  a  magnificent  loggia,  deco- 
rated it  with  paintings,  statues,  and  pictures  taken  from  the 
designs  of  Raphael,  and  inclosed  in  its  courtyard  a  most  noble 
casino,  devoted  to  music  —  all  under  the  superintendence  and 
according  to  the  directions  of  his  friend  Falconetto.  He  also 
availed  himself  of  his  assistance  in  other  grand  constructions  at 
his  villa  at  Codovico,  on  the  Paduan  hill,  and  at  Luigiano,  near 
Torreglia,  among  the  Euganean  Hills.     Nor  did  the  happy 

*  See  Note  F 

182 


A  EULOGY   UPON   COENARO 

alliance  between  the  Maecenas  and  the  artist  ever  cease ;  and  the 
latter  was  comforted  at  his  death  by  the  assurance  that  the  most 
hospitable  kindness  would  ever  be  lavished  upon  his  wife,  three 
sons,  and  six  daughters,  the  fortunes  of  all  of  whom  remained, 
in  fact,  at  the  mercy  of  the  credit  and  authority  of  their  patron 
and  friend.  The  candid  soul  of  Luigi  bore  so  great  a  predilec- 
tion to  Falconetto  and  another  happy  mind,  the  Paduan  Ruz- 
zante,*  that  Vasari  has  related,  in  his  works,  how  Comaro 
wished  that  Falconetto  and  Euzzante  should  be  buried  together, 
and  that  he  might  be  the  third  to  share  the  same  grave  —  in 
order  that  (says  the  historian)  "not  even  after  death  should  their 
bodies  be  separated,  whose  souls  friendship  and  virtue  had 
united  whilst  living." 

I  have  pointed  out  some  of  the  edifices  designed  and  erected 
by  Comaro ;  and  it  will  be  pleasing  to  you,  gentlemen,  if  I  re- 
mind you  that  the  magnificent  loggia  raised  in  Padua  is  still  in 
existence  and  much  admired,  and  that  the  very  celebrated  archi- 
tect Sebastiano  Serlio  proposed  the  designs  of  this  masterpiece 
to  the  studious  as  a  model  worthy  of  imitation.  Temanza,  in  his 
account  of  the  life  of  Falconetto,  also  speaks  to  us,  at  length,  of 
the  buildings  erected  in  the  villa  at  Codovico,  where  he  still 
found  remains  of  perfect  invention  and  execution ;  it  was  there 
he  discovered  a  portrait  of  our  most  honored  Maecenas,  one  that  I 
should  like  to  see  decorating  this  magnificent  hall  on  this  solemn 
occasion  in  which  I  am  striving  to  recall  his  deeds.  Temanza 
was  not  well  informed  when  speaking  to  us  of  the  palace  at 
Luigiano,  which  he  believed  had  been  built  near  the  Sile,  not  far 
from  the  city  of  Trevigio,  and  razed  by  time ;  but  to  the  culture 
and  knowledge  of  the  illustrious  Knight  Giovanni  de  Lazzara,  I 
owe  —  and  you  do,  likewise  —  the  pleasing  news  that  this  struc- 
ture, with  its  truly  royal  stairways,  remains  standing  in  that 
most  delightful  spot  I  have  spoken  of  among  the  Euganean  Hills. 
It  has  become  the  property  of  the  famous  Bishopric  of  Padua, 
and  does  not  belie  the  estimate  given  of  it  in  his  day  by  our 
Francesco  Marcolini,  who,  in  one  of  his  dedications,  wrote  thus : 
"If  a  gentleman  wishes  to  learn  how  to  build  in  the  city,  let  him 

•  See  Note  S 

183 


THE  ART  OF  IJVING   LONG 

come  to  the  Comaro  Palace  at  Padua. ...  If  he  wishes  to  lay 
out  a  garden,  let  him  also  find  his  model  there. ...  If  he  wants 
to  build  in  the  country,  let  him  go  and  see  at  Codovico,  at  Cam- 
pagna,  and  at  other  places,  the  structures  created  by  the  nobility 
of  Comaro's  great  soul. ...  If  he  wants  to  build  a  palace  fit  for  a 
prince,  —  out  of  the  city,  too,  —  let  him  go  to  Luvignano,  where 
he  will  behold  a  dwelling  worthy  to  be  inhabited  by  a  pontiff  or 
an  emperor ; . . .  Cornaro  knows  all  there  is  to  know  in  this  and 
in  the  rest  of  human  undertakings."  Note,  my  hearers,  that  the 
engraver  Marcolini  was  no  ordinary  man;  but  was  indeed  a 
most  famous  artist,  and  so  skilled  in  the  mechanical  sciences  that 
he  was  praised  to  the  skies  by  Daniel  Barbaro  himself. 

And  here  I  wish  to  interrupt  my  narrative  a  while  to  listen 
to  you,  gentlemen,  who  take  pleasure  in  considering  the  things 
which  I  propound.  It  seems  to  me  you  would  wish  to  rejoin: 
"Granted,  that  thy  Comaro  was  the  mirror  of  Maecenases  —  and 
who  does  not  know  that  to  them  the  arts  owe  both  favor  and  in- 
crease ?  and  we  may  add  that  they  owed  these  same  things  at  one 
time  to  the  majesty  of  religion,  now  enfeebled, . . .  and  also  to 
many  men  of  wealth  grown  poor  to-day.  Let  a  Comaro  return 
now,  and  with  him  a  Titian  and  a  Paolo;  let  the  artists  return 
in  throngs,  —  what  of  it  ?  Poor  father  of  a  family,  thou  dost 
spend,  and  indeed  waste,  for  that  son  of  thine  who  is  now  a 
studious  scholar  in  this  Academy,  but  who  runs  the  risk  of  re- 
maining afterward  destitute,  without  bread  and  without  fortune ! 
Poor  boy,  thou  bumest  the  midnight  oil  in  the  sweat  of  thy  brow, 
but  in  the  future  thou  wilt,  perforce,  be  inactive ;  and  it  would 
be  wrong  to  dare  thee  to  the  field  of  valor,  where  there  will  be  no 
palms  to  gather  when  thou  hast  attained  thy  end !" 

I  shall  not  invoke  the  shade  of  the  Venetian  Maecenas  to  an- 
swer similar  whisperings ;  for,  if  our  times  are  not  his,  it  is  to 
ours  we  must  conform.  I  wish  to  say,  however,  that  many  un- 
founded difficulties  proceed  from  vain  fears.  If  religion,  the 
comforter,  seems  to  have  become  feeble,  or  to  have  lost  its  power 
with  some,  the  neglect  of  a  few  is  not  a  fault  to  be  laid  to  the 
many ;  and  all  know  that  a  society  without  religion  is  like  a  ship 
without  rudder  or  sails.    Do  we  not  see  it  burning  bravely  in 

184 


A  EULOGY   UPON   CORNARO 

the  hearts  of  our  ruler  and  so  many  of  his  excellent  magistrates ; 
burning  in  the  honored  breasts  of  the  best  of  our  citizens ;  burn- 
ing in  the  bosoms  of  noble  matrons  and  of  the  humble  peasant 
girls  ?  And  you  need  but  enter  the  churches  to  see  the  solemn 
services  always  attended  by  throngs  of  people,  or  to  journey 
through  the  country  to  witness  respect  and  veneration  every- 
where manifested. 

It  is  only  too  true  that  the  murderous  weapons  from  beyond 
the  hills,  catching  us  unarmed,  deprived  us  of  a  great  part  of  our 
riches ;  and,  alas !  too  often  now  the  oak  stands  bare  which  used 
to  tower  in  vigor.  But,  perhaps,  rather  than  to  the  lukewarm- 
ness  of  divine  worship  or  the  swords  of  the  enemy,  we  might  at- 
tribute to  other  causes  the  scarcity  of  work  among  our  artists. 
It  is  incessantly  repeated  that  we  have  become  poor ;  but  how  is 
it,  then,  that  there  is  immoderate  luxury  in  all  that  regards  out- 
ward pomp  ?  that  an  Indian  fabric,  a  bit  of  Sevres  porcelain,  a 
piece  of  Birmingham  earthenware,  the  gold  and  silver  spun  in 
France  or  Germany,  and  many  other  useless  but  costly  trifles 
from  foreign  countries,  never  lie  dusty  in  our  shops,  while  the 
hands  of  our  artists  are  idle  ?  Pray  do  not  lead  me  to  exclaim 
that  there  is  among  us  more  poverty  concerning  the  true  love  of 
our  country's  splendor,  than  poverty  of  goods. 

The  conditions  of  modern  Italy  would  with  difficulty  give 
us  back  a  Comaro ;  but  there  must  be  other  means  for  the  protec- 
tion of  the  arts,  even  without  so  much  power  as  his. 

This  Adria  of  ours  is  no  longer,  such  as  the  illustrious  Eo- 
berti  depicted  it,  "Like  to  the  ancient  Tyre,  whose  navigators 
were  her  Phoenicians ;  when  its  commerce,  which  raised  up  the 
towers  and  halls  of  the  lagoons,  at  the  same  time  made  the  coim- 
try  everywhere  populous  and  honored."  Nevertheless,  for  an  ac- 
tive Maecenas  of  the  arts,  an  earnest  magistrate  is  often  suffi- 
cient ;  frequently  one  enlightened  citizen  is  enough,  or  the  wise 
pastor  of  a  church ;  and,  indeed,  we  see  active  Maecenases  in  not 
a  few  of  the  latter,  who,  in  the  midst  of  rural  surroundings,  erect 
magnificent  temples  enriched  in  many  ways.  By  enthusiasm, 
intelligence,  and  activity,  we  shall  see  our  buildings  repaired  and 
beautified,  and  our  houses  more  properly  decorated  with  the 

185 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING   LONG 

riches  of  our  national  productions  —  thus,  in  a  word,  our  cities 
ennobled.  Call  to  mind,  gentlemen,  that  through  the  activity 
and  fervor  of  one  of  our  pastors  in  these  latter  days,  the  temple 
of  Santi  Giovanni  e  Paolo  has  been  transformed  into  a  magnifi- 
cent gallery;  that  the  worthy  Knight  Morelli  has  there  rear- 
ranged and  enriched,  with  many  relics  of  the  fine  arts,  a  library, 
the  most  splendid  abode  Apollo  and  Minerva  could  have;  that 
the  Prefect  of  the  Seminary,  Giannantonio  Moschini,  has  con- 
verted a  dilapidated  building  into  a  magnificent  and  ornate  ly- 
ceum ;  that  our  most  illustrious  President,  whom  I  name  not  to 
flatter  but  to  honor,  and  who  is  always  intent  upon  honorable  un- 
dertakings which  nourish  the  arts  and  carry  their  teachings  to 
the  farthest  shores,  has  obtained  for  you  from  our  rulers  the 
means  by  which  this  Academy  now  ranks  above  all  others.  See- 
ing all  this,  let  us  rejoice  and  take  comfort  —  you  especially, 
most  learned  professors.  Eejoice  that  you  are  the  fortunate  min- 
isters who  maintain  here  the  sacred  fire  of  the  divine  works  of 
the  intellect,  and  know  all  that  is  exquisite  and  hidden  in  their 
structure.  Take  comfort  in  the  names  of . . .  many  who  were  once 
your  scholars  and  who  are  now  the  solace  and  help  of  their  fami- 
lies, their  brows  wreathed  with  crowns  of  honor  woven  for  them 
by  your  teachings.  And  you,  dearest  youths,  who  are  this  day 
prepared  to  receive  new  and  much-desired  laurels,  never  pay 
heed  to  the  reports  spread  by  ignoble  fear,  but  redouble  your  ear- 
nestness in  study ;  and  you  will  thus  become  the  delight  of  your 
friends  and  the  honor  of  your  country. 

Let  us  return  now  to  Luigi  Comaro,  and  follow  him  in  what 
we  may  of  his  long  life;  nor  let  us  abandon  him  until  its  last 
day.  Oh,  how  I  wish  the  chroniclers  had  been  less  niggardly  to 
us !  Por,  history  having  passed  over  in  silence  so  many  of  the 
personal  acts  of  that  gentle  spirit,  we  cannot  now  know  positively 
either  all  his  works  or  many  of  his  writings ;  but  must  be  con- 
tent with  the  little  we  have,  which,  like  the  plan  of  a  majestic 
building,  suffices  only  to  make  us  guess  at  the  grandeur  of  the 
structure  and  the  splendor  of  its  decorations.  The  few  letters 
which  remain  to  us  from  his  pen,  show  how  well  versed  he  was 
in  every  noble  science ;  and,  being  addressed  to  great  men,  such 

186 


A  EULOGY   UPON   CORNABO 

as  Bembo,  Speroni,  Barbaro,  and  Fracastoro,  they  suffice  to 
show  of  what  excellence  were  his  ties  of  friendship.  He  left 
nothing  undone  that  would  promote  intellectual  enjoyment.  The 
celebrated  tragedy,  "(Edipiis"  by  Giovanni  Andrea  delP  An- 
guillara,  he  caused  to  be  sumptuously  presented  under  his  own 
roof  for  the  recreation  of  the  Paduans.  The  "Canace"  of  Spe- 
roni was  also  to  have  been  given  in  Padua  with  singular  magnifi- 
cence, and  to  our  Luigi  was  entrusted  the  direction  of  the  per- 
formance. Forcellini,  in  his  biography  of  Speroni,  relates  that 
Comaro's  companions  in  this  were  Alessandro  Piccolomini  and 
Angelo  Beolco,  called  Ruzzante;  and  that,  besides  having  pro- 
vided music,  costumes,  and  luxurious  scenery  for  the  beauty  of 
the  performance,  he  had  prepared  a  great  banquet  for  forty  cho- 
sen gentlewomen  and  their  husbands,  the  academicians  and  the 
flower  of  the  men  of  merit  who  were  at  that  time  in  Padua ;  but 
the  unexpected  death  of  Ruzzante  put  an  end  to  all  these  plans. 
Finally,  we  know  how  deeply  he  had  studied  the  works  of  Vitru- 
vius  and  Leon  Battista  Alberti ;  and  that  he  was  much  praised 
by  Andrea  Palladio,  as  the  inventor  of  a  new  kind  of  stairway 
introduced  into  his  habitations.  Nor  is  that  all ;  for  he  dictated 
various  treatises  concerning  painting,  architecture,  music,  and 
agriculture.  But  the  only  writings  which  were  not  destroyed  by 
time,  are  the  discourses  upon  his  cherished  temperate  life  — 
translations  of  which  were  published  in  many  foreign  tongues 
—  and  a  learned  pamphlet  upon  our  lagoons,  which  he  used  to 
style  "the  most  strong  and  holy  ramparts"  of  his  dear  country. 

I,  who  like  to  borrow  the  words  of  the  aged,  which  breathe 
candor  and  simplicity  and  add  faith  to  speech,  beg  you  to  hear 
with  me  how  a  cultured  Tuscan  man  of  letters,  Antonmaria 
Graziani,  in  the  life  he  wrote  of  the  celebrated  Commendone,  — 
whose  secretary  he  was,  —  points  out  the  many  blessings  which 
our  Comaro  was  in  the  habit  of  receiving  from  the  virtuous  tem- 
per of  his  soul.  His  words  are  in  the  Latin  tongue,  and  this  is 
their  import  in  ours:  "This  most  honorable  man,  whom  the 
surname  of  Tempeeate  became  so  well,  was  courted,  revered, 
and  respected  by  all,  whether  those  of  eminent  birth  or  those 
distinguished  by  great  intellect ;  and  men  of  all  ranks  of  society 
were  eager  to  visit  him,  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  his  conversa- 

187 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

tion,  which  was  always  moderate,  pleasant,  and  ingenious.  Pru- 
dence, wisdom,  sagacity^  counsel,  and  liberality  formed  about 
him  a  most  beautiful  and  splendid  body-guard.  No  house  in 
Padua  was  more  looked  up  to  than  his ;  and  he,  always  magnifi- 
cent and  bountiful,  never  ceased  to  bestow  upon  all  —  but,  in  an 
especial  manner,  upon  those  conversant  with  the  fine  arts  — 
every  favor  of  a  generous  and  perfect  soul." . . . 

But  I  shall  lead  you  at  length,  gentlemen,  to  the  last  days 
of  Luigi  Comaro ;  and  it  will  be  sweet  to  you  to  know  that  to 
spend  one's  time  unceasingly  for  the  common  good  is  to  lay  up 
precious  consolation  for  the  last  hour  of  our  lives.  And  here  I 
shall  again  make  use  of  Graziani's  words,  that  you  may  see  how 
the  tranquil  and  restful  end  of  our  great  man . . .  was  as  serene  as 
the  beautiful  sunset  of  an  unclouded  day.  "The  good  old  man" 
(I  follow  the  faithful  translation)  "feeling  that  he  drew  near 
the  end,  did  not  look  upon  the  great  transit  with  fear,  but  as 
though  he  were  about  to  pass  from  one  house  into  another.  He 
was  seated  in  his  little  bed  —  he  used  a  small  and  very  narrow 
one ;  and,  at  its  side,  was  his  wife,  Veronica,  almost  his  equal  in 
years.  In  a  clear  and  sonorous  voice  he  told  me  why  he  would 
be  able  to  leave  this  life  with  a  valiant  soul ;  and  he  expressed  the 
best  wishes  for  the  happiness  of  my  Commendone,  to  whom  he 
insisted  upon  writing  with  his  own  hand  a  letter  of  advice  and 
consolation.  He  told  me  he  thought  he  might  yet  survive  two 
days;  but,  feeling  a  little  later  the  failure  of  vital  forces,  and 
having  received  anew  the  assistance  of  consoling  religion, ...  he 
exclaimed :  'Glad  and  full  of  hope  will  I  go  with  you,  my  good 
God!'  He  then  composed  himself;  and  having  closed  his  eyes, 
as  though  about  to  sleep,  with  a  slight  sigh  he  left  us  forever." 
A  departure  joyful  and  enviable,  but  how  great  a  misfortune  to 
the  world !  For  the  loss  of  men  of  so  great  wisdom  is  irrepar- 
able ;  nor  is  anything  left  to  us  but  to  follow,  as  far  as  may  be, 
their  authority  and  example. . . . 

Dear  and  noble  youths,  this  solemnity  is  sacred  chiefly  to 
you ;  and,  addressing  you,  I  shall  close  my  discourse.  With  the 
voice  of  warmest  affection,  I  urge  you  to  be  industrious  in  win- 
ning for  yourselves  the  patronage  of  the  prince  and  the  assistance 

188 


A  EULOGY   UPON   CORNARO 

of  the  Maecenas;  and  never  again  to  forget  Luigi  Comaro  and 
the  artist  Falconetto,  his  friend.  Yes,  to-day  also  you  "will  find 
protectors,  if,  having  made  for  yourselves  a  treasure  of  all  do- 
mestic virtues,  you  broaden  the  sphere  of  your  intellect  with 
a  great  variety  of  knowledge ;  and  if  you  will  bear  in  mind  that 
he  does  not  win  fame  and  celebrity  who  is  slothful,  but  rather 
does  he  who  works  night  and  day,  so  far  as  human  nature  will 
permit.  Livy  and  Plutarch  have  described  for  us  Philopoemen, 
an  illustrious  leader  of  armies,  and  have  narrated  the  great 
labors  and  efforts  which  bore  him  to  celebrity.  Reynolds  set 
that  general  as  an  example  before  his  young  scholars,  and 
showed  them  that  not  less  arduous  are  the  labors  and  efforts 
of  the  artist  who  would  ascend  the  heights  of  immortality. 
Therefore,  we  all  trust  to  your  talent  and  good-will;  and  by 
you,  valiant  youths,  this  city  will  continually  rise  to  greater 
luster ;  which,  for  delightf ulness  of  climate,  vividness  of  genius, 
holiness  of  institutions,  majesty  and  splendor  of  buildings,  and 
for  the  purest  milk  afforded  the  three  divine  sister  arts,  has 
ever  been  famous  throughout  the  whole  world. 


189 


"0  flowerets  of  the  field!'*  Siddariha  said, 

"Who  turn  your  tender  faces  to  the  sun,  — 

Glad  of  the  light,  and  grateful  with  sweet  hreath 

Of  fragrance  and  these  robes  of  reverence  donned. 

Silver  and  gold  and  purple,  —  none  of  ye 

Miss  perfect  living,  none  of  ye  despoil 

Your  happy  "beauty.    0  ye  palms!  which  rise 

Eager  to  pierce  the  shy  and  drink  the  wind 

Blown  fron^  Malaya  and  the  cool  blue  seas; 

What  secret  "know  ye  that  ye  grow  content. 

From  time  of  tender  shoot  to  time  of  fruit. 

Murmuring  such  sun-songs  from  your  feathered  crowns  f** 

— Sir  Edwin  Arnold 


"THE  VILLAS  ERECTED  BY 
LUia  CORNARO" 


BT 


DR.  PROF.  EMILIO  LOVARINI* 


Reale  Liceo  Minghetti  of 
Bologna** 


FAMOUS  for  his  treatise,  "La  VUa  Sohria,"  which  has  not 
only  been  translated  into  several  languages,  but  has  seen 

many  editions,  the  illustrious  Venetian  gentleman,  Luigi 
Comaro,  deserves  imperishable  renown,  likewise,  for  the  great 
and  useful  love  which  he  bore  for  the  arts  —  particularly  for 
architecture. 

"He  delighted,"  we  have  from  Serlio,  "in  all  the  noble 
arts  and  singular  attainments;  and  especially  was  he  fond  of 
architecture."  It  was  in  the  latter  that  he  acquired  his  title 
to  undying  fame,  as  even  his  contemporaries  acknowledged. 
Among  these  was  Ortensio  Lando,  who,  wishing  to  praise  him, 
made  this  merit  precede  all  others  when  he  called  him  "a  great 
builder,  an  enthusiastic  hunter,  and  a  man  of  profound  piety." 

•  See  Note  T  •♦  See  Note  U 

191 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

Architecture  was  not  for  him,  as  it  is  for  so  many,  purely 
a  luxury,  and  a  means  by  which  he  could  exhibit  his  riches  to 
the  envious  and  wondering  eyes  of  his  equals,  and  of  the  world 
in  general.  Rather  was  it  the  object  of  an  ardent  worship ;  so 
much  so  that  he  became  not  only  a  friend,  but  even  a  helper 
and  companion,  of  his  artist  proteges. 

He  studied  the  works  of  Vitruvius,  Leon  Battista  Alberti, 
and  other  writers,  and  visited  the  ancient  and  modem  archi- 
tectural monuments ;  he  originated,  according  to  Palladio,  "two 
kinds  of  stairways" ;  and  he  composed  a  work  on  architecture, 
which  a  relative  of  his,  in  a  letter  dated  January  27,  1554, 
insisted  should  be  published;  but  nothing  came  of  it,  and  it 
has  never  been  known. 

Fortunately,  instead  of  a  treatise  on  the  subject,  he  left 
something  better  to  us,  in  the  form  of  several  very  handsome 
buildings.  Much  more  would  he  have  left  had  Jiis  means 
allowed  it;  for,  as  Vasari  writes,  "He  was  a  man  of  great 
genius  and  of  a  truly  regal  spirit  —  the  truth  of  this  statement 
being  proved  by  so  many  of  his  honored  undertakings."  This 
opinion  is  perfectly  in  accord  with  that  of  Pietro  Valeriano, 
who,  in  a  Latin  dedication  of  a  work  to  Comaro,  wrote :  "To- 
day, no  private  individual  understands  better  than  you  the 
science,  beauty,  and  elegance  of  construction,  or  has  more  artis- 
tically turned  his  knowledge  to  practical  use.  Had,  perchance, 
a  destiny  worthy  of  your  great  soul  befallen  you,  our  age 
would  be  considered  inferior  to  no  ancient  one  in  the  develop- 
ment of  such  a  noble  art." 

What  he  did  accomplish,  however,  is  undoubtedly  well 
worthy  of  being  recorded.  The  ingenious  Francesco  MarcoHni, 
an  expert  printer  and  artist,  and  designer  of  the  bridge  "whence 
Murano  watches  Venice,"  was  the  first  and  last  to  prepare  a 
list,  which  is  thus  the  only  one  we  have,  of  Comaro's  buildings. 

One  finds  this  list  in  a  letter,  dated  June  1,  1544,  in  which 
the  editor,  —  Marcolini,  —  dedicating  to  Cornaro  the  fourth 
book  of  Serlio,  writes:  "To  you  alone  can  one  give  the  name 
of  'executor'  of  true  architecture,  as  is  attested  by  the  splendid 

192 


CORNARO^S   VILLAS 

edifices  ordered  by  your  superhuman  intellect.  If  a  nobleman 
or  private  gentleman  wishes  to  know  how  to  build  in  a  city, 
let  him  come  to  the  Comaro  Palace  at  Padua;  there  he  will 
learn  how  to  construct  not  only  a  superb  portico,  but  also  the 
other  parts  of  sumptuous  and  comfortable  buildings.  If  he 
wishes  to  adorn  a  garden,  let  him  take,  as  a  model,  the  one 
you  have  arranged,  not  only  under  your  dwelling,  but  crossing 
beneath  the  highroad  for  twenty  paces  —  all  in  rustic  style. 
If  he  is  desirous  of  building  in  the  country,  let  him  go  to  Code- 
vigo,  to  Campagna,  and  to  the  other  places  where  he  will  find 
the  buildings  which  are  the  product  of  your  great  genius. 
Whoever  wishes  to  build  a  princely  palace  —  also  away  from 
the  city  —  may  go  to  Luvignano;  there  he  will  view,  with 
astonishment,  a  mansion  worthy  of  a  pope  or  an  emperor,  or, 
at  any  rate,  of  any  prelate  or  gentleman  —  a  mansion  erected 
by  the  wisdom  of  your  Excellency,  who  knows  all  that  is  pos- 
sible in  this  and  other  human  achievements." 

With  all  the  exaggerations  to  be  noted  in  the  laudatory 
expressions  of  those  times,  Comaro  is  by  Marcolini  called 
merely  the  "executor"  of  true  architecture;  this  does  not  mean 
that  he  was  the  author  of  all  those  magnificent  edifices,  but 
rather  that  they  were  "ordered"  by  him,  as  is  added  later  on. 

It  ought  to  have  been  known  even  in  that  time  —  as  Vasari 
tells  us,  though  it  is  omitted  above  —  that,  even  if  Comaro 
was  the  architect  of  his  palace  in  Padua,  "the  beautiful  and 
richly  ornamented  portico,"  close  by,  was  the  work  of  the 
skillful  Falconetto*  —  a  fact  which  is  also  mentioned  in  the 
inscription  existing  above  the  central  archway.  It  should, 
moreover,  be  remembered  that  Falconetto  "worked  a  great  deal 
with  the  said  Comaro."  Without  further  proofs,  and  without 
any  documents,  we  think  it  quite  useless  at  the  present  day  to 
try  to  discover,  by  the  examination  of  the  architectural  style 
alone  of  what  remains,  how  much  is  the  work  of  the  one  and 
how  much  that  of  the  other.  Equally  devoted  to  classical  art, 
they  lived  together  twenty-one  years  in  an  uninterrupted  unison 
of  feelings  and  ideas;  so  much  so,  that  Comaro  expressed  a 
•  See  Note  P 

193 


THE  ART  OF   LIVING   LONG 

wish  that  he  might  be  buried  in  one  tomb  with  his  friend  — 
"so  that  their  bodies  might  not  be  separated  in  death,  whose 
Bouls  in  this  world  had  been  united  by  friendship  and  virtue." 

With  these  facts  before  us,  it  does  not  seem  right  to 
accept  the  opinion  of  some,  who,  like  Temanza,  see  Falconetto*s 
work  wherever  Comaro  has  built;  or  that  of  others  who  attri- 
bute all  to  Comaro;  but,  imtil  further  proof  is  attainable,  it 
would  be  wise  to  abstain  from  giving  any  positive  opinion. 

The  portico,  together  with  other  parts  of  the  city  palace, 
has  been  described  and  commended  by  many;  and,  though  it 
is  not  widely  known,  there  are  always  foreigners  who  visit  it. 
But  who  goes  to  visit  the  edifices  mentioned  by  Marcolini,  and 
the  others  omitted  by  him,  aU  away  from  the  city?  Not  only 
has  very  little  been  written  about  them,  but  some  of  them  have, 
unfortunately,  been  forever  lost. 

Last  summer,  while  traveling  through  the  Venetian  coun- 
try, I  went  to  the  scenes  of  Comaro's  work,  to  find  how  much 
had,  by  time  and  man,  been  left  of  the  buildings.  I  did  not 
find  all  that  he  had  built,  or  even  all  that  had  been  seen  by 
some  writers  at  the  end  of  the  last  century;  but  I  clearly  saw 
that  what  yet  remains  is  well  worth  illustrating  and  writing 
about.  Among  these  remains  is  a  fine  architectural  work, 
which,  until  now,  so  far  as  I  am  able  to  learn,  had  been  for- 
gotten; I  also  found  some  useful  documents  in  the  course  of 
my  researches  in  the  archives.  Therefore,  uniting  the  fruits 
of  my  two  investigations,  I  deemed  it  well  to  make  known 
what  I  have  myself  learned  about  the  works  constructed  in 
the  country  by  the  illustrious  nobleman. 


It  is  well,  from  the  very  first,  to  make  a  distinction  between 
the  edifices  built  at  Comaro's  own  expense  and  for  his  own 
use,  and  those  built  by  him  for  the  account  of  Cardinal  Fran- 
cesco Pisani,  —  Bishop  of  Padua  from  1524  to  1567,  —  for 
whom  Comaro  acted  as  administrator  during  several  years. 
The  distinction  is  readily  made;  for  there  still  remain  the 

194 


CORNARO'S  VILLAS 

documents  relating  to  Comaro's  property,  which  had  been  pre- 
sented at  different  times  to  the  officials  of  the  Commune  of 
Padua.  They  do  not  register  any  property  at  either  Campagna 
or  Luvigliano.  Here,  therefore,  his  work  was  for  the  Bishopric 
and  not  for  himself.  Let  us  now  commence  with  these  two 
places. 

At  Campagna  Lupia,  near  Dolo,  not  very  far  from  the 
lagoon,  is  a  large  farmhouse  which  belonged  to  the  Bishop  of 
Padua,  but  is  now  owned  by  a  gentleman  of  that  city.  It  was 
this  house  that  Temanza  recognized  as  the  one  mentioned  by 
Marcolini  as  Comaro's  work;  though  he  arbitrarily  put  it  to 
the  credit  of  Falconetto,  and  published  it  as  such  in  his  bio- 
graphical work,  in  1778. 

Twenty-four  years  later,  it  was  visited  by  the  publisher 
Pietro  Brandolese,  a  passionate  lover  of  artistic  researches 
relating  to  Venice,  who  described  it  minutely  in  an  impub- 
lished  letter  to  Count  Giovanni  de  Lazzara,  as  follows :  "At  a 
short  distance  from  the  church,  or  rather  just  before  coming 
to  it,  is  a  country-house  belonging  to  the  Bishopric  of  Padua, 
built  by  Falconetto.  It  is  the  same  one  to  which  Temanza 
refers,  at  page  138  and  the  following  pages,  under  the  simple 
denomination  of  'seventeen  arches.'  It  is  wholly  of  a  rustic 
style,  built  of  brick  and  carefully  selected  stone.  The  fagade 
is  formed  of  seventeen  arches  of  slight  proportions,  flanked  by 
very  strong  pillars.  There  is  no  aperture  whatever  above 
these,  and  the  fagade  ends  with  a  simple  band  which  serves 
as  a  cornice.  Under  the  portico  the  building  is  divided  into 
three  parts  by  two  stairways  which  lead  to  the  granaries,  the 
central  section  receding  a  little  from  the  sides.  Without  a  plan 
before  us,  it  is  not  possible  to  describe  the  arrangement  of  the 
ground  floor,  which  possesses  every  convenience  for  farming 
purposes:  rooms  for  the  peasants;  stables  for  cattle,  horses, 
and  all  kinds  of  animals;  cellars;  etc.,  —  all  very  cleverly  ar- 
ranged. The  vaults  are  wholly  in  brick  —  not  beams.  On  the 
first  floor  are  the  granaries,  which  one  can  enter  by  the  stairs, 
as  well  as  from  the  terraces  by  means  of  an  arched  bridge,  as 
is  clearly  seen  by  what  remains  near  the  courtyard  door.    This 

195 


THE  AET  OF   LIVING  LONG 

door,  in  rustic  style,  is  nearly  all  lost.  The  fagade  of  the 
portico  is  all  of  hewn  stone,  with  apertures  cleverly  arranged, 
corresponding  to  the  uses  of  the  house  and  to  its  internal  dis- 
position. The  entire  building,  in  fact,  gives  evidence  of  a  very 
skillful  architect.  Its  plans  would  serve,  today,  as  an  ingenious 
model  for  a  farmhouse,  with  due  allowance,  however,  for  all  the 
modem  needs  which  differ  from  those  of  that  age." 

The  Count  de  Lazzara,  fifteen  years  later,  in  a  letter  which 
was  published  by  Gamba,*  warrants  the  statement  that  Cornaro 
had  "presided"  over  the  construction  of  this  farmhouse,  and 
that  its  architect  was  his  guest.  But  not  even  Bishop  Dondi 
Orologio,  who  had  made  researches  for  him  among  the  old  docu- 
ments, had  been  able  to  find  the  name  of  this  architect,  or  of 
any  other.  Wherefore  he  wrote  thus:  "If  Temanza  speaks 
of  the  beautiful  portico  at  Campagna  as  having  been  built  by 
Luigi  Cornaro,  the  author  of  'La  Vita  Sohria/  I  doubt  his 
being  right.  Cornaro  was  the  administrator  of  the  Bishopric 
of  Padua  for  many  years ;  and,  under  the  date  of  August  17, 
1546,  there  is  a  writing  of  Cardinal  Pisani,  in  which  the 
Bishop  admits  owing  the  aforesaid  Cornaro  11,120  ducats,  for 
buildings  and  improvements  made  by  him  on  the  property  of 
the  Bishopric.  The  document  does  not  say  where  the  buildings 
were,  nor  where  the  improvements  were  made ;  perhaps,  among 
the  former,  the  one  at  Campagna  is  included." 

The  learned  Bishop  was  wise  in  presuming  only  that  which 
was  likely,  and  affirming  nothing  more.  If  it  is  probable  that 
Falconetto  may  have  had  something  to  do  with  it,  there  are 
no  proofs;  so  it  is  useless  to  mention  his  name.  We  may, 
indeed,  believe  that  the  building  was  erected  during  Cornaro's 
administration;  and  the  fact  of  its  having  been  attributed  to 
him  since  1544,  in  a  letter  publicly  addressed  to  him,  ought  to 
be  more  than  sufficient  proof.  Under  such  circumstances,  doubt 
is  unreasonable. 

Certain  documents,  regarding  the  adjustment  of  the  ac- 
counts of  Cornaro  and  Cardinal  Pisani,  testify  that  the  illus- 

*  See  Note  Q 

196 


CORNABO^S  VILLAS 

trious  administrator  was  occupied,  during  the  years  1532,  '33, 
and  '34,  in  establishing  throughout  the  lands  of  the  Bishopric 
the  system  of  farming  on  equal  shares ;  and  an  eye-witness  tells 
us  that  "at  Campagna  his  ambitions  in  this  regard  were  fully 
realized."  In  all  likelihood  that  was  the  time  when  the  neces- 
sity for  some  large  place  in  which  to  store  the  harvest  was 
most  felt;  and  Cornaro  must  have  provided  for  it  by  building 
the  country-house  in  question.  There  are,  in  fact,  records  of 
an  account  for  stone  used  in  building  the  barns  at  Campagna, 
which  account  was  presented  to  the  Cardinal.  The  place  was 
commonly  called  "the  granary  of  Campagna,"  and  it  was  also 
designated  "the  episcopal  palace  in  the  domain  of  Campagna." 
It  is,  to-day,  in  much  the  same  condition  as  described  by 
Brandolese. 

!N'ot  very  far  from  the  monumental  Abbey  of  Praglia  — 
upon  a  little  eminence  at  the  foot  of  the  Euganean  Hills,  from 
which  one  commands  the  view  of  a  great  part  of  the  Paduan 
plain  —  rises  the  palace  at  Luvigliano,  to  which  ascent  is  gained 
from  the  east  and  west  by  superb  double  stairways.  This  was 
probably  the  site  of  the  old  village  church  and  parish  house 
which  were  demolished  and  built  elsewhere,  in  1474,  at  the 
expense  of  Bishop  Jacobo  Zeno,  to  make  way,  perhaps,  for  the 
new  building  and  the  adjacent  gardens.  At  all  events,  the 
palace  was  erected  and  completed  much  later  by  Cornaro  —  as 
Marcolini  tells  us  —  and,  consequently,  during  his  adminis- 
tration; indications,  indeed,  are  not  wanting  to  confirm  this 
view. 

In  the  documents  pertaining  to  the  adjustment  already 
alluded  to,  this  palace  at  Luvigliano  is  likewise  mentioned  in 
reference  to  the  stone  employed,  as  well  as  to  other  building 
expenses.  It  is  also  likely  that  when  Cornaro  gave  up  his  care 
of  the  Bishopric's  property  the  palace  was  already  completed, 
as  would  appear  from  the  allusion  referring  to  it,  found  in  a 
summary  of  his  administration:  "and  he  completed  the  work 
which  he  had  begun." 

Later,  during  the  incumbency  of  Francesco  and  Alvise 
Pisani,  —  prior  to  1570,  —  the  fine  doorways  leading  into  the 

197 


THE  AET  OP  LIVING  LONG 

park  and  courtyard,  the  fountain,  the  crenelated  battlements, 
and  other  things  of  more  or  less  secondary  importance,  were 
constructed  by  the  architect  Andrea  Da  Valle,  the  sculptor 
Agostino  Eighetti,  and  others.  In  the  course  of  time  occurred 
other  small  additions  or  restorations ;  but  always  in  conformity 
with  the  original  design  of  the  villa,  in  which  one  can  admire, 
to  this  day,  the  happy  intellect  that  created  it. 

This,  like  the  rest  of  Comaro's  buildings,  has  been  at- 
tributed to  his  friend  without  any  proof  or  reason.  Selvatico 
alone  reasoned,  after  examining  the  palace,  that  "The  style  of 
architecture,  more  than  any  of  the  historical  notes,  discloses 
it  to  be  the  work  of  Falconetto";  and  he  added  this  opinion: 
"Though  not  everyone  may  be  contented  with  all  that  adorns 
this  structure,  none  can  help  admiring  the  beauty  and  richness 
of  its  design." 

Great  astonishment  was  felt  that  Cardinal  Francesco  Pisani 
visited  only  once  —  perhaps  in  1547,  and  just  for  a  few  hours 
—  that  superb  and  exquisite  palace  which  used  to  fill  with  pride 
the  hearts  even  of  those  who  had  merely  the  good  fortune  to 
own  property  in  its  neighborhood;  as  was  the  case  with  that 
chaplain  who  wrote,  in  Latin,  this  inscription  on  the  wall : 

''langfbancus  canipanona,  nicknamed  ligneamineus, 
the  son  of  alexander,  chaplain  of  the  church  of  the 
father,  has  prepared  this  house,  together  with  the  ad- 
joining hill  carefully  cultivated  by  him  and  covering 
fifteen  fields,  near  the  very  beautiful  palace  and  de- 
lightful gardens  of  the  bishopric,  in  the  village  of 
livianus,  for  pleasure  and  for  the  convenience  op  his 
friends,  in  the  year  mdlxiii." 

In  one  of  his  dialogues,  published  in  1561,  the  eminent 
jurist,  Marco  Mantova  Benavides,  puts  these  words  in  the 
mouth  of  tJlisse  Bassiani:  "You  certainly  do  the  place  [the 
suburban  villa  at  Bassanello]  a  wrong  no  less  than  does  Car- 
dinal Pisani,  who  has  only  been  once  to  the  palace  which  he 

198 


CORNAEO^S  VILLAS 

has  constructed  at  Covigliano  Isic"]  at  such  an  enormous  ex- 
pense that  it  commands  the  admiration  of  all  who  see  it;  and 
even  then  he  did  not  remain  more  than  a  day."  Oh,  what  were 
the  quiet  pleasures  of  a  residence  in  such  a  place,  to  the  ambi- 
tion of  a  Cardinal  who  was  eligible  to  the  papal  chair!  He 
abandoned  even  his  Bishopric  for  Rome ! 


Luigi  Comaro,  on  the  other  hand,  knew  how  to,  and  did, 
find  such  pleasures;  and  all  the  things  he  had  built  for  him- 
self he  enjoyed  both  heartily  and  for  a  great  length  of  time. 
In  1542,  remembering  that  he  had  always  benefited  "literati, 
musicians,  architects,  painters,  sculptors,  and  others,"  and  that 
he  had  spent  "many  and  many  thousands  of  crowns  in  stately 
buildings  and  in  many  beautiful  gardens,"  to  Speroni  he  prided 
himself  that  he  knew  how  to  enjoy  every  happiness  in  "such 
well-arranged  habitations  and  beautiful  gardens  of  his  own 
creation."  And,  though  "many  who  attain  these  things  do  not 
generally  enjoy  them,"  he  promised  himself  that,  thanks  to 
his  temperate  life,  he  would  yet  continue  to  enjoy  them  many 
and  many  years  —  which  promise  he  certainly  fulfilled.  Later, 
in  his  happy  and  industrious  old  age,  he  again  expressed  his 
satisfaction  over  it ;  and  he  delighted  to  teU  how  he  divided  his 
time  between  town  and  country.  To  this  very  circumstance  we 
are  indebted  to  him  for  some  interesting  points  on  the  subject 
of  our  research. 

"I  go,"  he  writes,  "in  April  and  May,  and  again  in  Sep- 
tember and  October,  to  enjoy  a  country-seat  of  mine  in  the 
Euganean  Hills,  most  beautifully  situated,  with  its  gardens  and 
fountains,  and  especially  its  beautiful  and  comfortable  dwelling. 
I  sometimes  go  there,  also,  to  take  part  in  the  pleasant  and 
agreeable  hunting,  of  the  kind  suitable  to  my  age.  I  enjoy, 
for  as  many  days,  my  villa  in  the  plain,  which  is  beautiful, 
with  many  pretty  streets  all  meeting  in  a  fine  square,  in  the 
center  of  which  stands  its  church,  highly  honored,  as  befits  the 
importance  of  the  place.  The  villa  is  divided  by  a  wide  and 
rapid  branch  of  the  river  Brenta,  on  either  side  of  which  the 

199 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

country  extends  in  cultivated  and  fertile  fields;  and  it  is  now 

—  the  Lord  be  thanked !  —  very  well  populated,  which  before 
was  certainly  not  the  case,  but  rather  the  opposite,  as  it  was 
marshy  and  malarial,  and  more  suited  to  snakes  than  to  men. 
After  I  had  drained  off  the  water,  the  air  became  pure,  and 
people  began  to  settle;  the  inhabitants  multiplied  greatly,  and 
the  place  grew  to  the  perfect  state  in  which  one  sees  it  to-day. 
I  can,  therefore,  truly  say  that  in  this  place  I  gave  to  God  an 
altar,  a  temple,  and  souls  to  worship  Hinu" 

This  is  the  village  of  Codevigo,  about  four  miles  distant 
from  Piove  di  Sacco;  here  the  records  of  the  Paduan  Com- 
mune indicate,  in  addition  to  the  numerous  and  extensive  pos- 
sessions of  Comaro,  a  house  for  his  own  use,  "with  a  courtyard, 
kitchen-garden,  orchard,  and  vineyard"  of  about  the  size  of 
"five  fields."  One  of  his  nephews,  in  a  letter,  describes  it  as 
follows:  "His  country-seat,  both  comfortable  and  adapted  to 
agriculture,  is  built  according  to  the  finest  architecture,  and  is 
stronger  and  more  commodious  than  any  other  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. He  wished  to  construct  the  vaults  entirely  of  stone, 
so  as  to  be  safe  in  case  of  fire,  war,  or  any  other  calamity." 
Marcolini  also  confirms  that  it  was  built  by  Comaro. 

In  the  same  village,  —  according  to  this  nephew,  —  besides 
the  beautiful  church  which  he  transformed  from  the  unattractive 
structure  it  had  formerly  been,  and  the  altar  of  which  Comaro 
himself  spoke,  he  also  built  the  bridge  over  the  river  Brenta 

—  "a  work  worthy  not  only  of  a  single  individual  but  of  a 
whole  community"  —  as  well  as  many  houses  for  the  farmers. 
But,  in  the  course  of  time,  much  of  all  this  was  lost ;  and  there 
remains,  at  present,  even  less  than  was  seen  by  Temanza  and 
Brandolese. 

Temanza,  who  always  returned  gladly  to  those  places  to 
see  Comaro's  edifices,  which  he  judged  as  "works  of  merit 
and  worthy  of  being  imitated,"  wrote  in  the  following  man- 
ner :  "At  the  village  of  Codevigo  in  the  country  round  Padua, 
situated  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river  Brenta,  —  which,  in  that 
part,  is  called  Brentone,  —  Comaro  owned  an  enormous  estate. 

200 


COENARO'S   VILLAS 

The  health  of  the  place  was  impaired  by  stagnant  waters,  for 
the  drainage  of  which  no  means  had  as  yet  been  provided ;  and 
he,  who  for  those  times  was  learned  in  hydrostatics,  reduced  the 
marshes  to  dry  land,  improved  the  condition  of  the  atmosphere, 
and  thereby  caused  a  great  increase  in  the  number  of  settlers. 
He  first  built  the  parish  church,  dedicated  to  the  prophet 
Zacharias.  He  then  constructed  a  noble,  though  not  very  large, 
palace,  with  porticos  and  courtyards,  as  becomes  a  villa.  All 
these  buildings  are  the  work  of  Giovanni  Maria  [Falconetto]. 
A  majestic  doorway  forms  the  entrance  to  the  palace.  It  has 
two  Ionic  columns  on  the  sides,  a  rich  cornice,  and  a  majestic 
frontispiece,  which  bears,  carved  in  the  center  of  its  upper  part, 
a  large  eagle  with  wings  outspread.  This  edifice  has  two  stories ; 
the  first  is  vaulted,  the  second  has  rafted  ceilings.  The  lower 
part  of  the  church  facade,  —  which  is  in  Doric  style,  —  as  well 
as  the  doorway  and  windows,  reminds  one  of  the  style  of  Fal- 
conetto. The  altar  bears  the  same  character,  and  has  a  fine 
terra-cotta  bas-relief  of  good  workmanship,  representing  a  scene 
in  the  life  of  the  prophet  Zacharias." 

One  cannot  imagine  where  Temanza  obtained  his  informa- 
tion about  the  priority  of  the  building  of  the  church,  or  the 
certainty  that  all  these  edifices  were  due  to  Falconetto,  though 
his  writings  are  decidedly  of  value;  for,  as  early  as  1802, 
vandal  hands  had  begun  to  destroy  these  monuments. 

As  good  fortune  would  have  it,  in  that  very  year,  on  the 
eighth  of  July,  Brandolese  happened  to  be  there;  and  he  gave 
to  Count  de  Lazzara  the  following  narrative  of  his  experience : 
"I  proceeded  eagerly  to  Codevigo,  to  learn  what  remained  there 
of  Falconetto's  work.  The  church  does  not  exist  any  more, 
except,  as  you  know,  the  Doric  part  of  the  f agade ;  and  of  these 
remains  I  admired  the  model  and  the  elegance  of  different  parts. 
On  entering  the  church  to  see  the  altar,  I  found  that  the  place 
where  it  used  to  exist  was  in  the  course  of  reconstruction,  and 
saw  the  original  pieces  thrown  carelessly  on  the  ground.  I  in- 
quired what  was  to  be  the  fate  of  this  fine  monument,  and 
learned  that  it  was  to  be  reduced  and  refitted  for  a  new  chapeL 

201 


THE  ART  OF   LIVING   LONG 

I  pleaded  with  the  parish  priest  that  it  might  be  rebuilt  as  it 
was  originally,  and  I  trust  I  have  obtained  the  favor.  I  ob- 
served the  archway  in  the  buildings  close  by,  now  belonging 
to  the  Foscari  family;  and  I  admired  more  than  ever  the  wise 
investigator  of  the  remains  of  Roman  art." 

Brandolese's  words  were  heeded,  and  the  exquisite  altar 
remains  to  this  day,  though  without  the  table  and  the  terra- 
cotta bas-relief;  and  it  occupies  the  chapel  to  the  left  of  the 
principal  altar. 

The  old  bridge,  and  the  doorway  of  the  Cornaro  Palace, 
however,  exist  no  longer.  The  building  has  been  repeatedly 
modified,  and  now  presents  nothing  especially  worthy  of  notice ; 
only  a  few  stones,  which  may  have  formed  the  base  of  the 
columns  of  the  doorway,  still  lie  scattered  about  under  the 
courtyard  portico.  The  fagade  of  the  church,  which  is  Doric 
below  and  Corinthian  above,  had  been  recently  whitened;  and 
the  old  steeple,  which  leaned  so  greatly  to  one  side  as  to  threaten 
a  collapse,  had  been  supported  with  a  buttress  extending  nearly 
to  the  belfry. 

We  have  yet  to  speak  of  the  other  villa  mentioned  by 
Cornaro  before  he  spoke  of  Codevigo.  He  does  not  name  it, 
but  only  says  it  was  in  the  Euganean  Hills  and  "in  their  most 
beautiful  spot."  Some  thought  of  Luvigliano,  and  supposed  that 
he  had  there  taken  to  draining  the  marshes,  felling  the  woods, 
breaking  up  the  ground,  and  cultivating  the  lands;  and  they 
eaid  that  the  fact  of  his  having  breathed  the  pure  air  of  that 
place  was  one  of  the  causes  which  prolonged  his  life  to  a  very 
old  age.  Gamba  believed  that  it  did  not  become  the  property 
of  the  Bishopric  of  Padua  until  sometime  later;  but  such,  as 
we  have  seen,  it  had  always  been;  and  we  cannot  believe  that 
the  noble  Cornaro  considered  it,  even  during  his  administration, 
as  his  own  property,  or  lived  there  as  if  it  were  his  own  home. 
Of  which  place,  then,  does  he  mean  to  speak?  Not  one  of 
the  many  who  have  written  about  him  has  ever  yet  told  us, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  in  1842,  among  the  collection  of 
Venetian  inscriptions  edited  by  Cicogna,  was  published  the 
letter  of  Comaro's  nephew,  already  mentioned,  which  explains 
that  this  villa  was  at  Este. 

202 


CORNARO^S   VILLAS 

"He  created,"  writes  the  nephew,  "on  a  hill  near  Este,  a 
delightful  garden,  full  of  divers  and  delicate  fountains  and 
perfect  grapes."  And,  continuing :  "In  his  youth  he  delighted 
in  hunting  big  game,  such  as  wild  boar  and  the  stag;  and,  as 
such  animals  were  not  to  be  found  in  this  country  [near  Padua], 
but  in  the  territory  of  Este  divided  by  an  arm  of  the  Po 
Isic],  he  built  there  a  comfortable  hunting  residence;  and  an- 
nually, for  many  a  year,  he  used  to  go  there,  killing  a  large 
number  of  these  animals,  which  he  either  sent  to  some  of  his 
friends,  or  else  distributed  in  Venice  or  Padua.  When  the  sport 
was  at  its  end,  he  had  a  comedy  prepared  and  given  in  his  own 
hall,  which  he  had  built  in  imitation  of  the  ancient  ones.  The 
stage  was  made  of  durable  stone ;  but  the  part  reserved  for  the 
audience  was  of  wood,  so  that  it  could  be  taken  down  and  re- 
moved. These  performances  were  all  very  successful,  as  he 
had  living  with  him  some  clever  artists,  such  as  the  famous 
*Kuzzante." 

Furthermore,  the  Paduap.  records  confirm,  without  any 
doubt,  that  he  owned  "a  house  on  the  hills  outside  the  gates  of 
Este,  with  an  orchard  and  a  vineyard  of  six  fields,"  which  he 
kept  for  his  private  use. 

Carefully  examining  all  the  records,  as  well  as  all  the  his- 
tories of  Este  that  have  ever  been  published,  I  found  —  and 
that  in  a  monograph  of  1851  —  only  the  following  imcertain 
allusion  to  a  Comaro  Villa  built  at  that  place :  "Beyond  [the 
Kunkler  Palace]  to  the  left,  is  a  palace,  perhaps  in  old  days 
that  of  Comaro,  and  later  belonging  to  the  Earsetti  family;  it 
is  built  on  a  beautiful  height,  and  has  been,  according  to  the 
designs  of  Japelli,  enlarged  and  improved  with  great  taste  by 
its  present  owner.  Doctor  Adolfo  Benvenuti." 

I  then  went  to  Este  to  find  this  Villa  Benvenuti ;  and,  to 
my  surprise  and  delight,  I  found  at  the  entrance  of  the  garden 
a  fine  archway  of  classic  style,  in  which  I  thought  I  saw  no 
little  resemblance  to  the  architectural  works  of  Comaro  and 
Ealconetto.  The  situation  of  the  villa  coincides  precisely  with 
the  description  in  the  records  of  Padua ;  for  we  find,  by  exam- 

•  See  Note  S 

203 


THE  AET  OF   LIVING  LONG 

ining  old  topographical  maps,  that,  in  order  to  get  to  it  from 
the  center  of  the  city,  it  was  necessary  to  pass  the  Santa  Tecla 
gate,  which  was  demolished  centuries  ago. 

The  archives  of  the  city  of  Este  contained  nothing  that 
could  convert  my  supposition  into  certainty;  but  a  few  days 
later,  while  examining  the  old  papers  of  the  Bishopric  of  Padua, 
I  came  upon  a  contract  of  1650,  in  which  the  Procurator  Gio- 
vanni Battista  Cornaro  had  leased  to  Giorgio  Comaro,  Bishop 
of  Padua,  for  ten  years,  "his  palace  at  Este,  near  the  convent 
of  the  Capuchins,  with  all  its  fields,  kitchen-gardens,  orchards, 
parks,  fountains,  vineyards,  etc."  To  this  contract  was  an- 
nexed a  minutely  detailed  inventory  of  the  furniture  in  the 
house.  This  document  dispelled  all  my  doubts,  as  many  details 
mentioned  in  it  are  identical  with  the  views  of  the  Villa  Ear- 
setti  and  its  garden,  drawn  by  Coronelli  in  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  century;  and  other  particulars  have  been  preserved, 
and  are  noticeable  to  this  day,  in  the  Villa  Benvenuti.  This 
villa,  belonging  formerly  to  the  Farsetti  family,  is  therefore 
none  other  than  the  old  Villa  Comaro:  it  is  near  the  convent 
of  the  Capuchins,  and  nearer  to  it  is  the  house  of  the  farmer 
who  has  charge  of  it;  just  as  we  know  that  the  palace  of  the 
Procurator  Comaro  was  near  the  convent,  and  that  nearer  still 
was  the  house  of  his  steward. 

In  the  Benvenuti  garden  there  is  running  water,  which  is 
very  scarce  in  these  hills;  this  is  made  to  pass  through  lead 
pipes.  In  fact,  we  find  recorded  in  the  inventory  "eighty-six 
pipes  of  lead,  weighing  2080  lbs.,"  to  be  used  for  the  fountains. 
And,  furthermore,  a  historian  of  Este,  in  1743,  published  the 
following:  "There  is  Cavalier  Farsetti's  villa  near  the  con- 
vent of  the  Capuchins,  where  the  house,  being  an  unpretentious 
one,  does  not  arouse  great  curiosity  to  see  it;  but  the  site  and 
the  playing  fountains  are  worthy  to  be  considered;  and  the 
place  has  frequent  visitors."  If  we  also  examine  minutely  the 
engravings  of  Coronelli  we  shall  see  a  portico  of  seven  arches 
under  the  palace;  in  the  garden  a  large  stairway,  with  many 
flower  vases  on  pedestals  on  each  side ;  and,  close  by,  two  viije 
trellises.    The  inventory,  furthermore,  mentions  a  portico  below 

204 


COBNARO^S   VILLAS 

in  the  front  of  the  palace ;  a  stairway  on  the  outside ;  numerous 
boxes  and  vases  of  plants  —  among  them  lemon  trees,  orange 
trees,  and  prickly-pear  trees;  fifty  pedestals  of  stone  for  the 
orange  trees ;  and  vine  trellises  supported  by  columns  of  stone, 
connected  by  iron  arches. 

These  comparisons  are  more  than  sufficient  to  establish  the 
identity  of  the  two  villas.  But,  in  ending,  I  shall  not  omit  to 
add  another  piece  of  information  furnished  by  the  inventory. 
In  it  is  a  full  list  of  an  interesting  collection  of  pictures  which 
were  distributed  about  the  rooms  of  the  palace.  Among  them, 
besides  "a  Comaro  coat  of  arms  painted  on  canvas,"  and  a 
portrait  of  the  well-known  Queen  of  Cyprus,  there  is  a  painting 
of  Ruzzante,  the  protege  and  affectionate  friend  of  Luigi  Cor- 
naro,  who  used  to  frequent  with  him  these  lovely  hills,  and 
who,  after  the  hunting,  would  recite  in  the  hall  which  Comaro 
had  built  in  his  own  house.  Of  this  hall  there  is  now  no 
vestige ;  and  the  palace  is  really  no  longer  the  one  of  yore,  as 
the  architect  of  the  Caffe  Pedrocchi  has  repaired  it  on  an  ex- 
tensive scale.  But  Coronelli's  engraving  remains,  and  it  gives 
us  some  idea  of  the  physiognomy  of  the  building  erected  by  the 
famous  author  of  "La  Vita  Sobria/' 

We  can  suppose  the  same  about  the  garden,  on  comparing 
the  other  engraving,  where  we  see  the  stairway  leading  from 
the  courtyard  to  the  first  floor  of  the  palace,  but  not  the  classical 
archway  which  stood  at  the  foot  of  it.  And  yet  the  engraver 
Sebastiano  Giampiccoli  did  not  omit  to  picture  it  —  though 
very  imperfectly  —  with  the  garden  and  stairway,  the  palace 
and  the  large  lateral  conservatories;  as  did  also  an  amateur, 
who,  in  1775,  engraved  a  panorama  of  the  city.  We  find  it 
more  faithfully  reproduced  in  the  "Design  of  the  Ancient  City 
of  Este"  of  1566,  which  accompanies  the  unpublished  history 
of  Michele  Lonigo,  to  be  found  in  the  Estense  Library  of  Mo- 
dena.  This  drawing  proves  that  the  archway  was  there  at  least 
as  early  as  the  year  following  Luigi  Comaro's  death,  and  it  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  it  was  he  who  built  it;  this  suppo- 
sition is  strengthened  by  the  proofs  of  the  great  resemblance 
between  the  architectural  style  of  this  arch  and  the  works  of 
Comaro  and  his  friend  Falconetto. 

205 


THE  AET  OF  LIVING  LONG 

The  Este  archway  belongs  to  the  Koman  style,  of  which 
the  two  were  such  enthusiastic  admirers;  and  it  is,  indeed,  a 
free  imitation  of  the  archway  of  Janus  Quadrifrons,  erected 
in  Rome  not  earlier  than  the  reign  of  Caracalla,  or  that  of 
Septimius  Severus,  or,  according  to  some,  as  late  as  the  time 
of  Constantine.  In  the  treatises  on  architecture  of  the  six- 
teenth century  it  had  already  taken  its  place  among  the  models. 
Furthermore,  the  two  architects,  Comaro  and  Falconetto,  must 
certainly  have  seen  and  examined  it,  during  their  visits  to  Rome 
to  study  the  building  art  of  the  ancients. 

In  the  modem,  as  well  as  in  the  ancient  arch,  there  are 
small  niches,  with  vaultings  in  the  shape  of  shells ;  but  in  the 
former  their  number  was  reduced  from  twelve  to  eight  in  the 
first  two  divisions,  and  were  omitted  altogether  in  the  third 
to  the  summit  of  the  arch,  on  which  there  was  simply  an  attic, 
as  on  others  of  Falconetto's  arches  —  but  without  inscriptions 
or  figures.  The  style  of  the  little  pillars  between  the  niches  is 
not  varied  as  in  the  Roman  model;  but  only  the  Composite  is 
used,  which  was  also  called  Triumphal,  from  the  triumphal 
archways.  The  grand  arch  itself  rests  on  two  protruding  siUs, 
the  keystone  is  sculptured,  and  the  panaches  are  ornamented 
by  two  flying  Victories  with  their  torches  extended.  These 
particulars,  which  are  wanting  in  the  arch  of  Janus,  are  found 
in  the  works  of  Falconetto  and  the  buildings  erected  by  Comaro. 
In  fact,  the  jambs  of  the  famous  portico  present  the  same  shape 
as  the  archway  —  fine  or  heavy,  as  the  case  may  be.  Besides, 
the  central  arch  of  the  portico  bears  two  sculptured  Goddesses 
of  Fame,  undoubtedly  different  and  better,  but  respectively  an- 
alogous in  the  attitude  of  the  arms;  and  the  next  two  parts  of 
the  archways  inclose  here,  likewise,  a  head  of  a  satyr  with 
ram's  horns  —  an  ornament  used  by  the  Veronese  artist  also  on 
the  exterior  of  the  gate  of  Savonarola. 

One  could  find  other  analogies  beyond  these,  of  which  there 
is,  perhaps,  no  need.  Let  us  observe,  instead,  a  difference  which 
seems  to  contradict.  The  proportion  between  the  width  and 
the  height  of  the  opening  in  the  Este  archway  is  less  than  one- 
half ;  Falconetto,  instead,  always  made  the  breadth  surpass  half 

206 


COENARO^S   VILLAS 

of  the  height.  But  we  must  know  here  that,  as  Japelli  had  to 
lower  the  level  of  the  courtyard,  he  lowered  also  the  ground 
under  the  arch  and  lengthened  the  ends  of  the  pillars,  as  is 
told  us  by  the  people  of  the  place,  and  as  is  visible  by  the 
difference  in  the  new  stone  which  was  used.  To  him,  therefore, 
is  due  the  alteration;  and  it  does  not  in  the  least  weaken  the 
supposition  that  it  was  erected  by  Comaro,  perhaps  with  Fal- 
conetto's  aid. 


Though  my  effort  to  arrive  at  this  conclusion  may,  after 
all,  appear  to  some  a  useless  one,  surely  it  will  not  be  judged 
so  by  those  who  reflect  that  I  have  called  the  attention  of  the 
learned  to  a  fine  work  of  the  closing  period  of  the  Venetian 
Kenaissance  —  one  which  no  one  had  as  yet  brought  to  notice. 

— Emilo  Lovarini. 


207 


This  is  the  excellent  foppery  of  the  world,  that 
when  we  are  sick  in  fortune  —  often  the  surfeit  of  our 
own  behavior  —  we  make  guilty  of  our  disasters  the 
sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars :  as  if  we  were  villains  by 
necessity,  fools  by  heavenly  compulsion;  knaves, 
thieves,  and  treachers,  by  spherical  predominance; 
drunkards,  liars,  and  adulterers,  by  an  enforced  obe- 
dience of  planetary  influence;  and  all  that  we  are  evil 
in,  by  a  divine  thrusting  on:  an  admirable  evasion  of 
Tnan,  to  lay  his  goatish  disposition  to  the  charge  of  a 
star! — "King  Lear/* 


NOTES 


Women 

Percent 

14,134 

58.9 

3,849 

61.4 

2,233 

63.7 

A — According  to  the  official  count  of  the  returns  of  the  Twelfth 
Census  (Census  Reports,  Vol.  II.,  pp.  XXXVI.  and  XXXVIII.), 
the  population  of  the  mainland  of  the  United  States  (excluding 
Alaska,  Hawaii,  and  persons  in  the  military  and  naval  service  of  the 
United  States,  stationed  abroad)  was,  in  1900,  as  follows: 

Total  Males  Females 

75,994,575  38,816,448  (51.1  per  cent.)  37,178,127  (48.9  per  cent) 

The  number  of  persons  returned  as  90  years  of  age  and  over  was 
33,762,  classified  by  sex  and  age  groups  as  follows : 

Total         Men       Per  cent. 
90  to  94  years  23,992  9,858         41.1 

95  to  99  years  6,266         2,417         38.6 

100  years  and  over  3,504         1,271         36.3 

B — John  Witt  Randall  (1813-1892)  was  a  great-grandson  of  Sam- 
uel Adams,  the  American  Revolutionary  patriot.  This  poem  was  selected 
by  William  Cullen  Bryant  for  publication  in  his  review  of  Randall's 
"Consolations  of  Solitude."  The  article  appeared  in  the  New  York 
"Evening  Post"  of  December  17,  1856.  The  poem  is  here  reproduced  by 
courtesy  of  Francis  EUingwood  Abbot,  editor  of  Randall's  "Poems  of 
Nature  and  Life"  (George  H.  Ellis,  Boston,  1899). 

G — In  the  selections  from  Addison,  Bacon,  Temple,  etc.,  the  spell- 
ing and  punctuation  have  been,  to  some  extent,  modernized.  The 
Bacon  article  is  not  an  unbroken  section  of  his  works,  but  a  collection 
of  many  short  passages,  in  the  arrangement  of  which  we  have  avoided 
the  use  of  the  customary  indication  of  omissions  of  irrelevant  matter. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  article  from  Temple's  works. 

D — LuiGi  CoBNABo:  Pronovmced,  Loo-ee'jee  Kor-nah'ro.  Ancient 
Venetian,  Alvise;  modern  Italian,  Luigi,  Lodovico,  or  Ludovico;  French, 
Louis;  English,  Lewis.  "La  Vita  Sohria":  Pronovmced,  Lah  Vee'tah 
So'bree-ah. 

E — The  Di  Spilimbeboo  family  was  an  Italian  patrician  branch  of 
a  house  of  German  origin,  which,  as  early  as  the  13th  century,  resided 
and  ruled  in  that  part  of  Friuli,  in  northern  Italy,  known  as  Spilim- 
bergo.  This  noble  and  ancient  house  was  very  powerful,  exercising  — 
In  some  cases  feudal,  in  others  allodial  —  lordship  over  many  vast 
estates,  among  which  were  the  castles  of  Spilimbergo,  Zuccola,  Solim- 
bergo,  Flambro,  Belgrado,  and  others.  The  family,  ennobled  In  1532 
by  Emperor  Charles  V.,  numbered  among  its  eminent  members  many 
soldiers,  statesmen,  prelates,  and  artists — one  of  the  latter  being  the 

209 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING  LONG 

famous  painter,  Irene  dl  Spilimbergo  (1540-1559).  The  city  of  Spllim- 
bergo,  —  of  which  the  population  in  1901  was  2,331,  —  on  the  Tajamento, 
14  miles  west  of  Udlne,  was  named  after  this  family. 

F — GiovANin  Makia  (John  Mary)  Faxconetto,  one  of  the  most 
eminent  of  Italian  architects,  was  born  at  Verona,  in  1458.  He  studied 
architecture  at  Rome,  then  returned  to  Verona,  later  making  his  home 
in  Padua.  Greatly  improving  the  style  of  architecture  in  the  Venetian 
states,  he  designed  and  constructed  many  admirable  buildings  and  other 
works  in  Padua,  Verona,  and  elsewhere.  His  masterpiece,  the  cele- 
brated Cornaro  Loggia  in  Padua,  suggested  to  Palladio  the  design  of 
his  villa  at  Vicenza,  the  famous  Rotonda  Capra;  the  latter  —  once  one 
of  the  greatest  monuments  of  modem  architectural  art,  and  described 
by  Goethe  as  a  marvel  of  splendor  —  has,  in  Its  turn,  served  as  a  copy 
for  others,  among  them  the  beautiful  Chiswick  House,  the  villa  of  the 
dukes  of  Devonshire,  at  Chiswick,  England.  In  the  Chiu*ch  of  San 
Antonio,  in  Padua,  the  Cappella  del  Santo,  so  remarkable  for  its 
grandeur  and  beauty,  was  completed  by  him.    He  died  in  1534. 

G — Claudius  GATEmis,  commonly  known  as  Galen,  the  most  emi- 
nent physician,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  learned  and  accomplished 
men,  of  his  day,  was  born  at  Pergamus,  in  Mysla,  Asia  Minor,  A.  D.  180. 
At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  studied  logic  and  philosophy  at  his  native  city ; 
two  years  later  he  began  the  study  of  medicine,  continuing  It  at 
Smyrna,  Corinth,  and  Alexandria.  At  the  age  of  thirty-four  he  re- 
moved to  Rome ;  there  he  gained  great  fame,  and  became  the  physician 
of  the  Illustrious  philosopher.  Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus,  as 
well  as  of  the  Emperors  Lucius  Verus,  Lucius  Aurelius  Commodus,  and 
Lucius  Septlmlus  Severus.  JHe  was  born  with  a  very  delicate  consti^ 
tutlon;  yet,  by  living  a  strictly  temperate  life  and  never  fully  satis^ 
fylng  his  appetite,  he  was  eiiabled  to  attain  great  age.  The  place  and 
date  of  his  death  are  uncertain,  occurring,  according  to  some  historians, 
at  his  native  city.  In  the  year  201 ;  while  others  place  the  date  as  much 
as  eighteen  years  later.  There  are  good  reasons  for  believing  the  latter 
to  be  correct 

Galen  confessed  himself  greatly  indebted  to  the  writings  of  Hip- 
pocrates, who  preceded  him  about  six  centuries,  and  who  Is  known  as 
The  Father  of  Medicine.  He  was  an  extensive  writer  on  medicine  and 
philosophy,  as  well  as  on  logic  and  ethics ;  of  his  works  there  are  still 
In  existence  eighty-three  treatises,  besides  fifteen  commentaries  on 
the  works  of  Hippocrates.  For  thirteen  hundred  years,  throughout 
Europe  and  the  Blast,  Galen  was  the  recognized  authority  in  the  science 
of  medicine. 

H— Doge  (the  Venetian  modified  form  of  the  Italian  duce,  from 
the  Latin  dux,  a  leader  or  duke)  was  the  title  of  the  chief  magistrate 

210 


NOTES 

of  the  Republic  of  Venice.  The  dignity,  or  office,  was  called  Dogato. 
The  incumbent  was  always  elected  for  life,  and  was  originally  chosen 
by  universal  suffrage.  He  continued  to  acquire  more  and  more  irre- 
sponsible authority,  until,  in  1033  and  1172,  laws  were  passed  which, 
in  various  ways,  greatly  reduced  his  power.  These  included  the  asso- 
ciation with  him  of  a  body  of  470  councilors,  known  as  the  Great 
Council.    At  the  same  time  universal  suffrage  was  abolished. 

In  1268,  the  doge  —  "King  in  the  forum,  senator  in  the  legislative 
hall,  prisoner  in  the  palace"  —  was  elected  by  a  peculiarly  complex 
method,  which  remained  in  vogue,  with  but  little  change,  until  the  fall 
of  the  Republic :  thirty  members  of  the  Great  Coimcil,  elected  by  ballot, 
chose  nine  members ;  they,  in  tlieir  turn,  chose  forty ;  twelve  of  these 
forty,  selected  by  lot,  chose  twenty-five;  the  twenty-five  were  reduced 
to  nine;  the  nine  elected  forty-five;  the  forty-five  were  reduced  to 
eleven;  and  the  eleven  chose  the  final  forty-one,  in  whose  hands  lay 
the  actual  election  of  the  doge.  The  powers  of  the  doge  became,  in 
time,  so  restricted  as  to  be  little  more  than  nominal;  and  the  constant 
espionage  to  which  he  was  subjected,  made  the  office  less  sought  for 
than  in  the  past;  indeed,  in  1339,  it  was  necessary  to  forbid,  by  law, 
the  resignation  of  the  incumbent  There  were,  in  all,  one  himdred 
and  twenty  doges ;  the  first,  Paolo  Lucio  Anafesto,  was  elected  in  697 ; 
the  last,  Lodovico  Manin,  in  1789.  Of  the  whole  number,  the  Cornaro 
family  furnished  four. 

I — After  the  dignity  of  Doge,  that  of  Pbocubatob  op  St.  Make 
(Italian,  Procuratorc  di  San  Marco)  was  the  highest  Originally,  there 
was  only  one  procurator;  but,  in  1442,  the  niunber  was  increased  to 
nine.  They  discharged  functions  of  a  varied  and  responsible  character, 
and  were  designated  as  follows:  the  Procurator  de  supra  (above),  In 
whose  care  was  the  imposing  Basilica  of  St  Mark  —  one  of  the  most 
Interesting  churches  in  Europe,  begun  in  828  but  not  consecrated  until 
1111  —  as  well  as  the  revenues  attached  to  It;  the  Procurator  de  oitra 
(this  side),  who  had  charge  of  the  charitable  works  on  "this  side"; 
and  the  Procurator  de  ultra  (beyond),  who  had  charge  of  them  on 
"that  side,"  —  of  the  Grand  Canal.  As  the  office  was  bestowed  only 
upon  the  foremost  men  of  the  day,  it  was  occupied  by  many  whose 
names  form  a  part  of  Venetian,  and  often  of  European,  history. 
Twenty-two  members  of  the  Cornaro  family  are  found  in  this  roll  of 
Illustrious  men,  which  ended  with  the  fall  of  the  Republic. 

J— The  Extoanean  Huxs  (Italian,  Colli  Euganei)  were  so  named 
from  the  people,  who,  according  to  LIvy,  occupied  this  territory  until 
driven  out  by  the  Veneti.  The  highest  point  Is  Monte  Venda.  These 
hills  are  covered  with  a  luxuriant  growth,  and  the  views  from  their 
stunmits  are  the  finest  in  all  Italy.  It  was  the  red  larch,  and  the 
granitic  and  porphyritic  rocks  abounding  there,  that  were  largely  used 

211 


THB  ART  OP  LIVING  LONG 

In  the  construction  of  the  Doge's  Palace  —  built  originally  about  the 
year  820  —  and  other  famous  buildings  of  Venice.  Of  the  many  col- 
lections of  prehistoric  relics  fovmd  in  these  hills,  that  in  the  Museum 
of  Antiquities  of  Mantua  is  especially  interesting  and  valuable.  With 
lovers  of  musical  verse,  Shelley's  poem,  "Lines  Written  Among  the 
Euganean  Hills,"  has  long  been  a  familiar  favorite. 

K — Danielle  (Daniel)  Babbabo,  an  Italian  ecclesiastic  and  Patri- 
arch of  Aquileia,  was  born  at  Venice,  in  1513.  He  was  an  extensive 
writer,  among  his  works  being  a  treatise,  "On  Eloquence"  and  a  com- 
mentary, "On  the  Architecture  of  Vitruvius" ;  the  latter  contributing 
largely  toward  the  return  to  the  classical  style  of  architecture.  His 
beautiful  residence,  a  unique  specimen  of  the  villas  of  the  Venetian 
nobility  of  the  period,  was  created  and  adorned  by  the  united  genius 
of  three  of  the  great  artists  of  the  Renaissance,  —  Andrea  Palladio, 
Paolo  Veronese,  and  Allessandro  Vittoria,  —  and  was  a  noted  center  of 
arts  and  letters.    He  died  in  1570. 

L — AQmuEiA,  an  ancient  city  at  the  head  of  the  Adriatic,  22  miles 
northwest  of  Trieste,  was  colonized  by  the  Romans  about  181  B.  C. 
At  a  later  period  it  was  chosen  by  Julius  Caesar  as  headquarters  for 
his  forces  in  Cisalpine  Gaul.  In  160,  the  Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius 
Antoninus  fortified  it  so  strongly  that  it  was  considered  the  first  bul- 
wark of  the  Roman  Empire  against  the  northern  barbarians,  and  was 
called  The  Second  Rome.  At  one  time  it  was  the  capital  and  first 
city  of  Venetia.  In  the  5th  century  it  had  100,000  inhabitants;  but, 
in  452,  it  was  destroyed  by  Attila,  King  of  the  Huns,  and  the  inhab- 
itants fled  to  the  lagoons  on  which  Venice  now  stands.  From  this  it 
never  fully  recovered;  yet,  rebuilt,  it  continued  to  enjoy  considerable 
prosperity.  At  the  council  of  556,  the  Bishop  of  Aquileia  separated 
from  the  Church  of  Rome  and  took  the  title  of  Patriarch.  In  1420, 
Venice  deprived  it  of  most  of  its  possessions;  and,  in  the  latter  half 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  Patriarchate  was  abolished.  The  city 
is  said  to  have  derived  its  name  from  the  Latin  aquila,  an  eagle  having 
appeared  as  a  favorable  omen  to  its  founders ;  but  it  is  more  probable 
that  the  name  owes  its  origin  to  the  fact  that  the  "aquila"  was  the 
standard  of  the  Romans.    The  population  is  now  about  2,000. 

M — The  CoBPTELii  ranked  among  the  most  illustrious  of  the  patri- 
cian families  of  Rome,  and  no  other  house  produced  a  greater  number 
of  individuals  who  notably  distinguished  themselves  in  war  and  civil 
affairs.  To  this  family  belonged  Cornelia,  —  daughter  of  the  famous 
Scipio,  and  wife  of  Tiberius  Sempronius  Gracchus,  —  who  is  known 
in  history  not  only  as  Cornelia,  Mother  of  the  Gracchi,  but  also  as  the 
purest  woman  mentioned  in  the  historical  period  of  Rome.  She  was 
the  mother  of  twelve  children  and  lived  to  extreme  old  age,  dying 
about  130  B.  G. 

212 


NOTES 

N — From  a  mural  tablet  in  the  First  Church,  Quincy,  Massachu- 
setts ;  placed  there  in  memory  of  John  Adams,  the  second  President  of 
the  United  States,  and  Abigail  Smith,  his  wife. 

0 — The  BucENTATJE  (Italian,  II  Bucentoro),  the  state  galley  of  the 
Venetian  doges,  was  employed  to  conduct  illustrious  guests,  whom  the 
Republic  delighted  to  honor,  to  the  Ducal  Palace.  It  was  also  tised 
in  the  ceremony  of  espousing  the  Adriatic,  into  whose  waters  the  doge 
dropped  a  ring,  with  these  words:  "We  espouse  thee.  Sea,  in  token 
of  true  and  perpetual  sovereignty."  This  historic  custom,  which  was 
in  itself  a  proclamation  and  a  challenge  to  the  world,  originated  in  the 
celebration  of  the  triumph,  in  1177,  of  the  Venetians  under  Sebastian© 
Ziani,  the  39th  doge,  over  the  forces  of  Frederick  I.  (Barbarossa), 
Emperor  of  Germany;  and  was  annually  observed,  without  interrup- 
tion and  with  all  its  original  pomp  and  splendor,  from  that  year  until 
the  close  of  the  Republic  in  1797.  The  galley,  100  feet  long  and  21 
feet  in  extreme  breadth,  was  manned  by  168  rowers,  four  to  each  oar, 
and  by  40  sailors.  Its  fittings,  gorgeous  in  the  extreme,  were  brilliant 
with  scarlet  and  gold;  its  long  banks  of  oars  brightly  burnished;  and 
its  deck  and  seats  inlaid  with  costly  woods.  The  ship  perhaps  received 
Its  name  from  the  figure  of  a  bucentaur  —  head  of  a  man  and  body  of 
a  bull  —  in  the  bow. 

P— The  Golden  Book  (Italian,  II  lAbro  d'Oro),  was  the  parch- 
ment register  in  which  were  kept  the  complete  records  of  the  births, 
marriages,  deaths,  etc.,  of  all  the  members  of  the  Venetian  hereditary 
nobility.  Anyone  enrolled  in  this  famous  register,  had  he  attained  the 
age  of  twenty-five  and  been  found  worthy,  was  eligible  to  membership 
in  the  Great  Council.  It  was  a  unique  institution;  opened  in  1315,  it 
enjoyed  a  duration  of  centuries,  until  it  was  closed,  forever,  in  the  fatal 
year  of  1797.    It  is  now  among  the  archives  of  the  Republic. 

Q — Babtolomeo  (Bartholomew)  Gamba,  a  noted  Italian  biographer 
and  author,  was  born  at  Bassano,  —  on  the  river  Brenta,  in  northern 
Italy,  —  May  15,  1766.  As  a  distinguished  printer  and  editor,  he  was 
elected,  in  1831,  Vice-Librarian  of  the  Marciana.  There  he  acquired 
such  fame  as  a  bibliographer,  that  he  was  made  a  member  of  several 
Italian  academies,  including  the  one  at  Florence.  Among  his  many 
writings,  acknowledged  to  be  of  great  merit,  are:  "A  Qallery  of  the 
Literati  tmd  Artists  of  the  Venetian  Provinces  in  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury" (1824),  and  his  "Life  of  Dante"  (1825).    He  died  May  3,  1841. 

R — Caius  Cilnius  Maecenas,  a  celebrated  Roman  statesman,  and 
the  most  influential  patron  of  literature  at  Rome,  was  born  about  70 
B.  C,  of  an  ancient  and  noble  Etruscan  family.  He  was,  for  many 
years,  the  intimate  friend,  as  well  as  chief  minister  and  adviser,  of 
the  Emperor  Augustus,  by  whom  he  was  held  in  the  highest  respect 
and  honor.    His  palace,  on  the  Esquillne  Hill,  was  long  the  principal 

213 


THE  AKT  OF  LIVING  LONG 

resort  of  the  literati  of  Rome.  It  was  chiefly  due  to  his  aid  that  the 
poets  Horace  and  Virgil  were  granted  the  means  for  the  enjoyment 
of  literary  leisure;  and  the  latter  wrote  his  "Georgics"  at  the  request 
of  his  benefactor.  His  death,  occurring  at  Rome,  in  the  year  8  B.  C, 
was  considered  by  all  —  especially  by  Augustus  —  an  irreparable  loss. 
As  early  as  the  1st  century  his  name  had  become  proverbial  as  a  patron 
of  letters;  Indeed,  among  all  the  names  —  royal,  noble,  or  otherwise 
eminent  —  associated  with  their  patronage,  none  in  ancient  or  modern 
times  is  so  familiarly  known  as  that  of  Maecenas;  a  century  after 
whose  death  the  poet  Martial  wrote :  "Let  there  but  be  Maecenases,  and 
Virgils  shall  not  be  lacking."  Maecenas  is  a  familiar  character  in 
Shakespeare's  "Antonv  and  Cleopatra." 

S — RuzzANTE,  a  favorite  Italian  dramatic  poet,  whose  true  name 
was  Angelo  Beolco,  was  born  at  Padua,  in  1502.  Gifted  with  remark- 
able talent,  he  was  the  author  of  many  dialogues,  discourses,  and 
various  other  writings  in  the  rustic  Paduan  dialect,  which  he  had 
thoroughly  mastered.  The  large  number  of  comedies  which  he  com- 
posed were  all  highly  applauded  wherever  heard. 

A  few  young  men  of  good  family  accompanied  him  on  his  travels 
as  an  artist,  reciting,  as  he  did,  under  the  shelter  of  a  disguise  —  con- 
cealing their  real  names  under  others  borrowed  from  the  scenes  in 
which  they  appeared.  In  the  recital  of  these  farces  he  took  the  part 
of  the  joker  or  jester  (Italian,  Ruzzante) ;  and  it  was  to  this  circum- 
stance that  he  owed  his  sobriquet  of  Ruzzante,  which  climg  to  him 
ever  after.  Indeed,  from  that  time  on,  he  used  it  instead  of  his  family 
name;  it  even  appeared  in  his  works,  which  were  published,  complete, 
at  Vicenza,  in  1584,  1598,  and  1617,  under  the  title :  "All  the  Works  of 
the  Most  Famous  Ruzzante,  "Newly  and  with  the  Greatest  Diligence 
Revised  and  Corrected."    He  died  March  17,  1542. 

T — Emilio  Loeenzo  Lovabini,  professor  of  Italian  literature  in  the 
royal  Lieeo  (High  School)  Minghetti,  of  Bologna,  was  born  at  Venice, 
March  7,  1866.  His  youth  was  passed  in  Padua,  where  he  completed 
his  education,  receiving  his  degree  of  doctor  of  philology  from  the 
University  of  that  city,  July,  1889. 

Although  still  a  young  man,  Dr.  Lovarini  has  already  acquired 
considerable  reputation  as  an  authority  on  various  subjects,  his  re- 
searches covering  a  wide  range.  His  chief  writings  pertain  to  the 
customs,  dialect,  folk  lore,  and  rustic  literature  of  ancient  Padua;  the 
habits  and  pastimes  of  students  of  the  University  in  the  16th  cen- 
tury ;  etc.  He  is  the  author,  also,  of  a  biography  of  Ruzzante,  an  illus- 
trated critical  edition  of  whose  works  he  is  now  preparing.  He  has 
published  a  Ughly  interesting  work  on  gypsy  melodies,  and  the  songs 
of  Taranto. 

U— From  Vol.  II.,  Nos.  VI.- VII.,  AprU-July,  1899  — of  "UArte," 
of  Rome. 


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